Mockingbird in the Looking Glass
by quizasvivamos
Summary: Kurt Hummel is a billionaire playboy & the founder & CEO of Hummel Industries, headquartered in NYC. What he did to get there and what his company does to make its money is a mystery. Kurt lives a reckless and carefree life until he finds himself in a surreal situation. On a journey of self-discovery, Kurt must learn about power & responsibility, compassion, &, above all, love.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Hello! Because I already love this story to death and am an extremely impatient person, I decided to release the first chapter much earlier than initially planned. As of right now, I have a lot written, but I cannot guarantee how often it will be updated. Ultimately, it will all depend on reader response and the feedback I receive: positive feedback, reviews, and coffee fuel me. If you like it - love it even - can't wait for more...let me know, because it will motivate me to write more quickly and try even harder. One thing is certain: this one's gonna be a long one. Without further ado, please commence reading, and I hope you enjoy it! :D

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Kurt slammed his hand down hard on his solid mahogany desk, a resounding thud in its wake, while his other hand formed a tight fist, his fingers tangled in the hair of the man between his knees. His mouth fell open as a white heat pooled in his stomach, and he rolled his hips forward as he cried out, his orgasm hitting him with more force than usual. Kurt felt his heart hammering in his chest, and his breathing came out heavy as he came down off his high.

"_Fuck_," he practically gasped. "It looks like ordering Thai was a great idea." Kurt zipped up his pants. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the top drawer of his desk, flicked his lighter, and lit one up, inhaling deeply, his body now relaxing and nerves melting away. He pushed the chair back away from the desk, and the other man - a delivery guy from the Thai restaurant a few blocks down - rose unsteadily to his feet and smoothed out the creases in his clothing.

"I suppose you expect a tip for that," Kurt said, grinning. "Here," he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He placed a hundred dollar bill down flat on the desk and slid it over toward the man who looked at it, hunger burning in his eyes. Then Kurt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, giving room for the man to snatch up the bill.

There was a loud knock on the door of Kurt's office, and he swiveled around in his chair as his visitor then slowly pushed the door open.

"Hello, Amy," Kurt greeted the woman. "What do you need? Can't you see I'm trying to enjoy my lunch?" he asked with an impish grin. He sucked down the last bit of his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on the corner of his desk. The woman kept her head down but was unfazed by the visitor. After eight years as Kurt's personal assistant and secretary, she was used to Kurt's antics by now. In fact, it was almost a daily occurrence. She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes.

"You have a meeting at two in the conference room," she told him.

"With -?"

"P&H Incorporated. You're expected in ten minutes."

"You may leave - Matt -?" Kurt said with a dismissive wave to the delivery guy who was still standing there shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and looking toward the door.

"It's Andrew -" the young man said, still looking at Kurt while gripping the bill in his hand as if it would float away if he loosened his hold on it at all.

"Do I look like I care? I said you may leave. Now scram," Kurt said, shooting the man what was recognized as his signature bitch glare. It was toxic, and, when seen, one knew to hightail it out of his sight. A terrified Andrew took off, closed the office door behind him, and raced to the elevator.

"I guess this means I have to move." Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. "They'll wait for me - they always do. But I'll kindly allow you to escort me down there. After all, what am I paying you for?" he joked.

Amy held the door open for Kurt, and they swiftly made their way to the elevator. When they got in, Amy turned to Kurt and cleared her throat.

"Do you even know what the meeting is about?" she asked him, mildly irritated as she suspected she already knew the answer.

"Nope. But I'm sure you'll fill me in," he answered, staring nonchalantly at his fingernails and then began checking his hair in the polished metal of the elevator doors.

"You're closing a deal to acquire sixty-percent of the company's assets in the form of two of their three factories," Amy explained.

"That sounds like fun," Kurt said, still disinterested.

They reached the floor, stepped out of the elevator, and made their way toward the conference room. Upon their arrival, Kurt could see through the glass panes of the front wall of the room that the man in charge of the negotiations for the other company had brought his cronies with him.

When Kurt entered the conference room, a hush fell over the small group of men assembled there. Kurt took his seat at the head of the table and nodded to his visitors from the rival company.

"Good afternoon, Mr. -?"

"Frank Madison," the man said.

"Frank. And how can you help me today?" Kurt asked.

"Aren't you a sweetheart," the man sneered. "I'm not sure how it happened, but we're in a desperate situation to sell."

"Well, this is how it's going to work, and it's actually quite simple," Kurt said. "You're going to sign along this line here, and I'm going to walk away a wealthier man."

"That's it? No questions asked?"

"That's it. Unless you wanted to blow me, then all you have to do is sign and be gone. On second, thought, I'm not into old grizzly bears like you," Kurt said with a smug smirk, looking the man up and down. Frank narrowed his eyes angrily at Kurt and let out a heavy sigh in his frustration.

"I'm not going to listen to some entitled brat," Frank said. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh but you will. And you should be," Kurt said.

Frank Madison rose from his seat in a huff, and then turned his head and eyed Kurt curiously. Then, after a moment, he slowly began to nod.

"Okay. It's yours - but I'm on to you. I don't know where you came from, who you think you are, or how you managed to climb your way up to this point, but I'm going to expose you. I'll bring you crashing down to the ground - all the way down from your fancy penthouse apartment. And it's a long way down," he said, spitting as he articulated each 'p'.

Kurt swallowed hard in response to the man's threats, and his grin wavered only for a split second. He watched as Frank scribbled his signature down on the appropriate line of the contract and then had Amy take the contract from him just as quickly.

"It was great doing business with you," Kurt said, standing and extending his hand mockingly to the other man. Frank looked at his hand, disgusted, but then took it, squeezing just a little too hard before letting go. "Have a great evening. I know _I_ will," Kurt said, waving his fingers goodbye to further taunt him.

Frank muttered under his breath as he exited the room with his cronies in tow, unable to figure out for the life of him why he had just agreed to that deal. He was sure someone would have his head quicker than he could say, "Well, fuck."

"Kurt," Amy said. He turned. "The rest of your schedule is clear for the day. Did you need me for anything?"

"Honey, I always need you. But now that I think of it, I could really use a coffee. Rather, make that a latte with three shots - of Cognac."

"Of course."

"You're the best," he said. "Now I remember why I pay you."

They began to make their way back toward Kurt's office where he would easily spend the rest of the day basking in his success, twiddling his thumbs, and counting down the last hour or so of the work day.

-s-

All it would take was a slight push, and he could go plunging down to the busy street below from seventy-two floors up. Except there was a thick pane of glass and a roof on which was planted a luxurious garden separating him from such a fate. But he looked down over the city, taking in all that was Manhattan in its grandeur - the dazzling lights, the tall buildings, and the tiny people and cars that crawled through the streets below. And he imagined that there were people just like him wandering around down there, desperately seeking a place in it all, to have a piece of the city to call their own. That was who he was when he first arrived in town: young, bold, and prepared to fight his way up. But New York was just another effortless challenge for him after getting everything he possibly could from the Midwest.

Kurt looked down into his glass of Château d'Yquem and swirled the contents around before taking a long sip. He took a drag on his cigarette as he continued to gaze out the wide windows. The door to his bedroom swung open and out walked a tall, lean brunet, hair wet, skin moist, and in nothing but a towel hanging loosely from his waist. The man walked up behind Kurt, wrapped his arms around his middle, and nuzzled his nose into the side of his neck.

"I was thinking about you," he said by Kurt's ear. Kurt could feel the man growing hard as he pressed his body up against Kurt. He could smell the man's aftershave and the mixture of tangy aromas of his own body wash, shampoo, and toothpaste on his skin and warm breath - lemon and fresh mint; like a tall glass of mojito that Kurt would love to drink in a heartbeat if given the chance to put his lips on it.

"Mmm, Emmett," Kurt hummed, closing his eyes for a moment at the contact. He turned around and met Emmett's gorgeous blue eyes. "You know I don't do sentimental. I quite enjoy my life as a bachelor, scoring with any young man that pleases my eye."

"Then let's go out. You always seem so miserable when you're cooped up in this place. I'll never understand why you live in such a large apartment when you're so insistent on remaining single and alone," Emmett said.

"I live up here because I need to be on top with everything I do - _everything_. Besides, it has the best view, and I like to watch," Kurt said, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

"Well, in that case, your name is permanently at the top of the VIP guest list at Provocateur, so let's take advantage of that, shall we?" Emmett said.

"I could use some fresh air, and there _is_ quite a bit of watching to do there - among other things," Kurt said.

-s-

Kurt was on his fourth drink, and the tab of X he had taken not too long before had him feeling looser than putty in the sun and hornier than an unneutered puppy. And there were beautiful people surrounding him, models, businessmen, actors, musicians, any of whom he could have if he asked. He had lost Emmett somewhere along the way and was now grinding up against a twenty-something who he vaguely recognized from some movie...probably. These things were trivial to him: people knew who he was, but he didn't care who they were or how famous they might be.

"I need to use the gentlemen's room," Kurt spoke above the music by the man's ear. "Would you be a gentleman and escort me there?"

The next thing he knew, he had the young man palms flat against the bathroom wall, completely at his mercy as he thrust up and into him. His hips slammed up against the man's ass with each thrust, and Kurt threw his head back as he bit his lip and his eyes rolled up into his head. His brain felt like it was swimming in a warm jacuzzi with the jets on full blast, and his skin was almost scorchingly hot and severely sensitive to every touch and contact he made with the man he was inside of. He sank his cock one last time deep into the man, and then moaned as he began to come hard, his orgasm heightened by the ecstasy and so intense that he felt like he was about to pass out as he climaxed and continued to come.

"Thanks, darling," Kurt said, patting the man on the ass. He pulled out and clumsily cleaned himself up. "It was fun. See you around - or not." And he left the bathroom, stumbled back out into the crowd, and lost himself in the music and the sea of sweaty bodies.

-s-

"Sir -"

Kurt turned his head slightly at the sound.

"Sir, are you going to order something? If not, you're going to have to leave."

At that, Kurt managed to lift his heavy lids and open his eyes and focus enough to make out a hideous yellowed formica countertop beneath his head and the dimly lit surroundings of a diner. Its fried slop and meat-infused atmosphere was now overwhelming his senses and began to turn his stomach. He habitually pulled out a cigarette and proceeded to light it but was startled by the woman behind the counter.

"Sir, you cannot smoke in here. I don't care who you might me, it's a state law."

"Is that so?" Kurt looked down at his phone: 3:52 AM.

"Don't test me."

"Alright. I'm leaving, I'm leaving," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. He half stumbled and dragged himself home, still in a drug and alcohol induced haze and reeking of sex and smoke. Blacking out and waking up alone in an empty diner was a low point for him, but it also wasn't the first time it had ever happened.

When he entered his apartment, he collapsed onto the sofa where he passed out for about an hour before coming to again. It was quiet when he did, and he reached for the remote to turn on his television. The news came into focus, and the image stretched across the triple-digit-inch plasma screen that hung on the one wall.

He stretched and sat up, not without difficulty, and tried to ignore the pounding in his head, beating a steady rhythm, his temple the kick-drum. He rubbed his eyes and then looked on at the screen as he stood up.

_"At 3AM this morning, a woman was spotted on the Brooklyn Bridge, but authorities report that, when pursued, the woman appeared to have simply vanished," the female reporter went on. "An investigation is underway, and officials will be searching the water below for a body."_

Kurt tuned out the rest of the report as he went off to put himself together for the day. When he climbed back out of the shower, he pulled on his favorite Vivienne Westwood suit, styled his hair, and then called for a car to take him across town to his office.

When he entered the building, the atmosphere was tense. He stepped off the elevator, and made his way through the hall to his office. But, along the way, he tried to nod hello at a few people who immediately ducked their heads, looking terrified at his presence. He found their behavior odd: people loved him, they didn't fear him. To be feared was the last thing he wanted - at least from his employees.

But when he sat down at his desk, he immediately spotted an envelope addressed to 'K. Hummel' and devoid of any return address or sign of who the sender was. At least he trusted that Amy would not have put this on his desk if there was any possibility of it endangering him in any way.

He slowly lifted open the flap of the paper envelope, sliding the document out and onto the desk. He unfolded it and was taken aback by what he saw. There were no hand-written words or any computer-generated type-font on the single page. Instead, it looked like something out of a film, mismatching letters cut out of a magazine and glued down like a ransom note. But the message on it had nothing to do with ransom. It read:

_"We know what you are."_

Kurt felt a chill travel the length of his spine, and his body twitched involuntarily. Unsure of what the message was supposed to mean, he wondered if maybe someone was trying to scare him. It was impossible that anyone actually had anything on him. Besides, he had everyone who mattered eating out of the palm of his hand, so he had no reason to worry.

-s-

After calling for a car, Kurt was on his way home, reclined and gazing through the open moonroof at the darkening sky. As the car made its way down East End, Kurt's eyes traced the shapes of the clouds and smog in the light-polluted sky, almost wishing to be back in Ohio - but only for a split second - so that he could see the stars again.

He was stirred from his brief trance when he saw some sort of light ripple through the sky, but as quickly as he blinked, it was gone again. Now this is just getting weird, he thought.

When he reached his building, he climbed out of the car, hastily made his way into the lobby, and hightailed it to the elevator, completely ignoring the doorman's greeting. Finally back in his apartment safe and sound, Kurt locked and chained the door and then leaned his back up against it as he felt his breathing begin to regulate. He finally stepped away from the door when his heart was no longer racing. He was alone now in the sanctuary of his opulent nest.

Kurt was still shook up from the car ride home, but he unstopped a bottle of Disaronno, poured it over some ice in a glass, and took a few swigs. His nerves began to settle. He cupped the cool glass between his hands and leaned up against the counter. Then he began to hum softly, a tune he had heard somewhere recently, and then he closed his eyes and sighed. A soft mew seemed to sound in response.

"And what have you been up to all day, huh, Anna?" Kurt looked down, addressing the light gray cat that was now winding around his legs and rubbing its face on his dress shoes. "I bet you've been catching up on all the sleep I should be getting." He crouched down and scratched the cat under her chin. She closed her eyes and purred, tilting her head upward.

"What am I even doing?" he asked the cat as if she could understand him. "Weird things are happening, Ms. Wintour, and I think for the first time I'm actually scared."

She turned her face up toward him and her bright green eyes bore into him.

"I know - Kurt Hummel scared? I've been a bit of an ass, took advantage of way too many people, and have been downright corrupt," Kurt said, "so I wouldn't be surprised if this is the universe finally catching up with me - all that bad karma can't be good."

Anna followed Kurt over to the sofa where he sank down into the cushions. She leaped into his lap, and he proceeded to pet her as he sorted out the thoughts in his head. How had he gotten himself tied up in all of this? How had he let himself take it this far? The power? The wealth? The fame? Surely, the partying and the sex were great perks, but was he becoming tired of it all?

No one ever tried to stop him before, never challenged him in any way. The world is his oyster, but maybe he was becoming sick of seafood. Because when you're up this high, there's only one way you can go. Down. And it really was a long way down.


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of mocha, espresso, and cheap citrus cleaner filled the space around his head in the small coffee shop, and Kurt leaned back a bit in his chair and crossed his legs. He flipped the page of his magazine and absentmindedly skimmed the table of contents before flipping again.

"Oh. Would you look at that," Kurt said to himself as his eyes fell upon a picture of none other than himself smack dab in the center of the gossip column. Finding the scathing article that outlined his most recent escapades and sexual conquests highly amusing, Kurt laughed to himself, causing the barista to look over and fix him with a judging look.

"There's nothing to see here," he snapped at the small girl behind the counter. She jumped and then turned back around to clean one of the machines. Noticing that he had startled her, Kurt laughed again and shook his head.

"The silly paps," he said to himself, turning his attention back to the article. They seemed to enjoy following him around these days, the paparazzi, but he was more than happy to flaunt his fortune and would practically pose for them when they showed up. It gave them something to talk about and him a great source of entertainment.

A few moments later, he looked back up at the barista. Kurt noticed that there was something about her that reminded him of an acquaintance from high school, a girl who sang in the choir alongside him. Tina, he thought. She reminded him of Tina. Poor girl. He wondered what ever became of her. It seemed like worlds away now. Another lifetime.

But high school was when he started realizing the height of his power and the easy way he had with people. His days were filled with locker room rendezvous and getting off with nearly the entire football team behind their oblivious little cheerleader girlfriends' backs. When he wanted the quarterback Finn Hudson, he got him. When Sam Evans moved to the school, he found out just how good it felt to run his hands through his out-of-a-bottle-blond hair and what that trouty mouth was good for. And when Mike Chang's abs were brought to his attention by his girlfriend, Tina, he managed to talk him into some extracurricular activities in which he gained some first-hand experience that involved some interesting choreography.

And teachers gave him what he wanted without much hesitation: he always made the highest marks and was handed every solo he auditioned for - and even some that he hadn't.

He vaguely remembered a time when all he wanted was to know what boys' lips tasted like and what it might be like to hold a boy's hand, but now he was well-versed in just exactly how every part of a man tasted, men of all varieties, and it was no longer their hand he wanted to hold, that was for sure.

The truth was, no one had ever said no to Kurt Hummel.

His whole life, people seemed to fall down at his feet and give him whatever he wanted, and it got to a point where he stopped questioning it and just accepted it. Kurt shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts of his past, and he turned his attention back to the magazine.

He flipped the page, saw a perfume ad, and was about to flip the page when something caught his eye. He could have sworn he saw the picture move, and when he looked at it again, words seemed to ripple through the liquid in the bottle in the picture.

_"You are in danger."_

Kurt shook his head and stared more closely, squinting his eyes a bit; but the words had disappeared, and only the still photograph of overpriced chemicals printed on glossy paper remained.

"Ugh. I need to cut back on the booze." He set the magazine down and ran his hands over his face. "I'm sure the drugs aren't helping either."

Kurt rose from his seat at the table and made his way over to the barista. She avoided making eye contact with him, but when he deliberately and quite loudly cleared his throat, she looked back up at him.

"How can I help you, sir?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I'll take a grande nonfat mocha," he said.

"No problem - just give me a sec." He watched as she fumbled nervously with the machine. The girl quickly fixed up the drink and handed it over the counter to Kurt.

"Thanks." Then he reached into his wallet to swipe his card. But before he slid his wallet back into his pocket, he took out a twenty and tossed it onto the counter. It was the least he could do for scaring her, and she really did look like Tina the second coming. He would never be able to go back in time and apologize for what he did to her - she really had been a nice girl - but it eased his conscience just a little to offer some sort of condolences in the best way he knew. It was a peace treaty of sorts - even if it was just to a doppelganger of her younger self.

Drink in hand, Kurt turned on his heel to leave the small coffee shop, setting off the bell on the door on his way out. The girl watched until he was no longer in sight and then picked the twenty up off the counter and slowly folded it, placing it into the front pocket of her apron.

-s-

It was rare that he walked the city when the sun was still in the sky, but Kurt trudged down the broad avenue with no immediate destination in mind. New York City was once a grand dream in his head, where life and wonder manifest, the pinnacle of success, and the final frontier. New York to him wasn't just the literal stage, it was the world stage, the place where people became more than people and were finally able to display to the world why they weren't just another pretty face and why they mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Now that he had walked all over the city, took what he wanted from who he wanted, and built his corporation from the ground up, New York City was just another place riddled with grime and refuse, the people who wished they were somebody, the homeless, the trash, and the pollution.

He stepped off the curb to cross the street right before the countdown signal began. But as he reached the other side, he heard music drifting through the air from about a block away. Normally, he would have passed by and paid no mind, but there was something about the tune that drew him in. As he made his way toward the music, a street performer came into view, and he could make out an electric violin hooked up to an amplifier of some sort. The man did not look up, but he continued to play. Kurt stood there rooted to the spot, entranced by the song, the sad quiver of the bow against the strings. He felt something begin to rise up inside of him, beginning in his stomach, but he swallowed hard and fought it back down.

He glanced around, adjusting his sunglasses, and realized that he was the only one watching this street performer. Kurt was baffled that there hadn't been a crowd. He looked around again and then took out his wallet, pulling out a five dollar bill. He stepped forward and tossed the bill into the open instrument case before shoving his hand in his pocket, his drink still clutched in his other, and then took off back down the avenue.

As he hurried along, the initial reason for his midday excursion drifted back into his thoughts, and he turned the corner in the direction of his tailor. One of the only things that was able to get Kurt Hummel out and about in the city was the promise of newly imported, fresh, crisp Italian fashion. And he had an appointment to be fitted for a few new suits that was due to begin, well, around twenty minutes ago. To Kurt, start times - just like speed limits and Surgeon General's warnings - were simply suggestions. After all, the old man wasn't going anywhere and needed Kurt's business, unless, god forbid, he happened to die before Kurt arrived.

"Mr. Hummel," an older gentleman greeted him as he pushed his way into the small shop.

"Levi," Kurt said, nodding at the man in acknowledgment.

"It's great to see you in! What brings you here today? Oh! Don't tell me...let me see," Levi began, making his way into the back room where he disappeared for a few moments. "This week is Armani and Versace, no?" he said, peeking his head back out.

"I believe so," Kurt answered, obviously distracted and staring off to the side of the room instead of making eye contact with the tailor. Something about the street performer was still haunting him, and the sad melody of the song kept playing on loop in his head, making him feel a bit lethargic.

"Well, come on back, and we'll get you suited up," Levi gestured toward Kurt who absentmindedly complied.

On any other given day, standing there examining himself in brand new designer menswear would have given him a certain high that only high-end fashion could. But today Kurt could hardly find it in him to even focus in the mirrors to revel in how nicely Armani and Versace hugged his tall, slender body almost as if he were born to wear them. Levi continued to take Kurt's measurements and jotted notes down on his clipboard.

"Luckily, it doesn't seem like much has changed," Levi finally commented, tossing the measuring tape over his shoulder as he shuffled around. "But you _have_ lost some weight there, Kurt," he said, raising an eyebrow. When Kurt didn't respond to his bold observation, Levi dared prod him out of concern.

"Kurt?" he said, raising his voice a bit.

"Yeah. Thanks," he said shortly.

"Mr. Hummel, is there something on your mind? You're certainly not yourself today," Levi pointed out, which, although he wouldn't outwardly admit, he was happy for. Had it been any other day, Kurt would have made at least a dozen snarky comments about "the old Jew" and would have gotten in a few jabs about his grandson who had just started college at a local performing arts school.

"I don't know why you're trying to stick your _nose_ into my business, but I'm fine. It's none of your concern. Are we done here?" Kurt jeered, finally snapping back into the moment.

There he was. That was the Kurt the tailor had become so accustomed to.

"Uh, um, yes, I suppose you're good to go." Levi helped Kurt out of the jacket and pants and carried them away to his sewing room as Kurt slipped back into his outfit from the day. When Kurt stepped back out into the front room of the shop, Levi was there with his receipt.

"I'll have them ready for you within the week and sent directly to your place of residence," he said.

Fixing Levi with a glare of pure revulsion, Kurt pulled some cash out of his wallet, and, without bothering to count it, stuffed it into his thin, age-spotted hands. Then a sly smile slowly spread across Kurt's face.

"You should buy your grandson something nice to wear, you cheap old bastard." Kurt turned around to head out. "That way when I'm stripping him before I fuck him in the back of G Lounge, my hands are only touching designer. I'll have him practicing those high notes in no time," Kurt shot back over his shoulder at the man before taking his leave. As the door of the shop shut behind him, Levi glared out the front window, wondering why in the world he still put up with all of this shit at his age.

Amused, Kurt laughed to himself and shook his head as he made his way down the sidewalk, lit up a cigarette, and then began humming softly as he continued on.

But by the end of the evening, Kurt became somber again as he sat down to mindlessly watch television, dozing off to a _Queer as Folk_ marathon. He was soon sound asleep and, like usual, hadn't heard the door click and swing open as Emmett admitted himself. He barely felt the pair of strong, careful hands hoisting him up off the couch and escorting him to the bedroom so that he might get a proper night's sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

If Kurt didn't feel like going to the office, then the solution was simple: he didn't. Today was one of those days. Instead, he woke up with a hard-on and decided to nudge Emmett awake to take care of it. He rolled his hips, grinding against Emmett's thigh, and whimpered softly from the friction. Emmett began to stir and slowly opened his eyes, letting out a faint yawn.

"G'morning," Emmett mumbled, rolling over to face Kurt who was now inches from his face and gazing lasciviously in his direction. "And what a thing to wake up to." He grinned, his eyes running the length of Kurt's body.

Then Kurt climbed atop Emmett and brought his mouth close to his ear. He rolled his hips down, grinding into the man beneath him. Kurt was pleased when he felt Emmett begin to grow hard from arousal, obviously interested in what he had to offer.

"Kurt," Emmett moaned, a pleading note in his voice.

"Oops. Where are my manners?" Kurt whispered. "May I fuck you - please?" Kurt said, a grin on his face and his breath hot against Emmett's neck that sent a chill the length of his body.

Emmett grabbed his ass with both hands in response and pulled him down against him, their bodies now flush, and the friction growing between them as they began to rock their hips and their cocks slid roughly together.

"Now why do I always seem to find you in my bed every morning?" Kurt said through a moan as Emmett began to slowly stroke his cock.

"It's not every morning. But it's because you know I like you, and I'll let you use me," he said.

"True. And it helps that I like your face - and your body - and all the things you do to me -" Kurt gasped, his abdomen tensing up and heat pooling in his stomach as he felt himself about to come apart. He thrust into Emmett's hand.

"Like this -?" Emmett said as he stroked Kurt one last time, running his thumb over the underside of his head. Kurt's body jerked from the movement.

"Mm - exactly like that," Kurt moaned, his body finally releasing its tension. He came into Emmett's hand and onto his stomach. Boneless, Kurt pulled himself up against the headboard, reached over to the nightstand for his pack, and lit his first cigarette of the day. He watched Emmett climb out of the bed to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he pulled his briefs on and climbed back into the bed.

"Kurt," Emmett began. "I enjoy the time we spend together as just casual whatever we ares, but do you ever want - more?"

"How could I want more when I have everything?" Kurt said as if the answer was so painfully obvious.

"Doesn't it ever get lonely?"

Anna jumped up onto the bed and climbed into Kurt's lap. Kurt began stroking her fur absentmindedly and then scratched behind her ears. He took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out.

"No."

"Kurt -"

"Emmett. I don't know what you're trying to do or what's gotten into you, but you already know how I feel about us. We have fun - nothing more," Kurt said.

"And I like having fun with you, but I'm only human, and in moments of weakness, my heart wants more."

"Ugh," Kurt groaned. "Your heart is a muscle that pumps blood through your body. I don't know why anyone believes in any of that romantic bullshit. Love is as real as Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. There's no such thing as love."

"You're seriously trying to tell me that you've never felt a deeper connection with anyone ever in your entire life?"

"No, never."

Emmett pulled the covers up off himself and rose from the bed.

"Consider yourself lucky then," he said, grabbing his clothes. "I'm going to pick up some lunch from that little place on the corner. I'll be back. But I won't stay if you don't want me to."

Kurt watched as he left the room and listened until he heard the front door of the apartment shut with more force than was necessary. Was it guilt that he felt? Yes. But he hadn't been lying to Emmett either. How could he explain that he simply never felt 'in love'? Was Emmett right? Was he lucky to have never felt that way toward someone? He would admit that he enjoyed Emmett's company, but if he were expected to make a commitment, to promise someone that he would be their one and only, well, that was a promise he knew he couldn't keep.

-s-

Everyone turned their heads and looked up as Kurt stepped into the day spa, and the woman at the front desk immediately rose up to greet him. His boots clacked against the marble floor as he approached the desk, and everyone grew quiet.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel, you're looking fantastic as always. What are you in for today?"

"Everything."

"Everything? Are you sure?"

"I don't stay this pretty at my age by pure luck. That's why I pay you the big bucks to work your magic."

"So it'll be a manicure, pedicure, waxing, facial, and...?"

"A full-body massage," Kurt said, tilting his sunglasses down to peer over them and quirking an eyebrow.

"Cristofer is finishing up with a client right now. If you'll have a seat right over there, he should be right over to take you back and take care of you," the woman explained with a smile.

"Perfect," Kurt said, nodding at the woman. He sank down into one of the large cushioned chairs, removed his sunglasses, crossed his legs, and picked up a magazine. Cristofer was his preferred beautician and massage therapist ever since Paul had left to go back to school. He really would miss Paul, but Cristofer was younger, fresher, and oh so deliciously European, something Kurt couldn't resist. After all, it was great to have a little variety every now and then to keep things interesting.

No more than ten minutes later, a young man approached Kurt.

"Good day, Mr. Hummel," Cristofer said, beaming and holding his hand out to help Kurt out of the chair. Kurt set the magazine down and took Cristofer's hand, allowing him to lead him over toward the rows of chairs and mirrors. He let go and followed the man back into a private section of the building and into a small room.

Kurt closed the door and grabbed Cristofer's wrist, spinning him around and pushing his back up against the door with a thud. Then he smashed his lips against Cristofer's, eliciting a strangled whine from the man. Kurt bit down softly on Cristofer's bottom lip and then pulled away before leaning his chin on the man's shoulder.

"I'm going to take my clothes off now," Kurt breathed by his ear. "You like that, right?"

Cristofer nodded and swallowed hard.

"Good. We can get all the technicalities out of the way and save the best for last." He grabbed Cristofer's ass, causing him to jump, and then Kurt let go with a laugh. He walked over to the table and began to strip down, handing his clothes to the young man who carefully hung them up.

Kurt laid down on his stomach and relaxed as a towel was placed over his bottom. A pair of hands began to work warm oils into his skin, rubbing his neck, shoulders, arms, and then began to work their way down his back.

"I love what you do with your hands," Kurt moaned as Cristofer worked the knots out of his upper back. He gradually made his way down to Kurt's lower back and continued to knead at his muscles. As his hands wrapped around Kurt's hips, he felt his cock twitch beneath him, and he began to grow hard against the massage table.

When Cristofer's hands began to roam beneath the towel, Kurt twisted around and threw the towel to the side, letting it fall to the floor. Kurt pushed himself up onto his elbows and cocked his head to the side.

"Aren't you eager today?" Kurt asked, grinning mischievously at Cristofer.

"You're a very beautiful man," Cristofer said, his hands now gripping Kurt's hips as he massaged his thumbs in circular motion over and around his pelvic bone.

"I know," Kurt said. "Even if you are just saying that for a bigger tip. Go on. Admire me." Kurt laid back and closed his eyes as Cristofer's hands made their way to his already half-hard cock.

"This is why you're my favorite," Kurt moaned, biting his lip as he jerked his hips up and into the young man's warm hand, already slicked up with the massage oils. Behind his closed lids, an image of Emmett's face began to surface in his mind with his bedhead and sleepy eyes from that same morning, and suddenly Kurt felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He blinked his eyes open to rid himself of the image; he wanted to enjoy himself, and he wasn't sure why he was even thinking about another man at a time like this. Maybe the things that Emmett had said to him about - _love_ - were really starting to get to him. It made Kurt begin to feel ill even thinking about it.

Kurt let out a sharp gasp as Cristofer worked him to climax. He threw his head back as he came into the man's hand. His breathing steadied as he laid there, and Cristofer cleaned him up to prep him for the rest of his treatments, beginning with his waxing and facial.

-s-

The remainder of Kurt's spa day was a euphoric blur until he was sitting in the chair for his pedicure. He was relaxing with his eyes closed when he heard something that caught his attention.

"And they say it was just a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen."

Kurt listened in to the conversation that was taking place a few feet off.

"They haven't found a body, but they swear she jumped. Just leaped off the bridge," the woman in the chair said.

"It's so sad. I don't know what it is about teens these days. I don't know what could ever drive a person to that extreme. It's really a shame."

Kurt swallowed hard. It wasn't something he liked to think about, the suffering of others. And he especially wasn't a fan of the topic of death. There was a time back in high school, a time he tried desperately to erase from his memory, when a classmate of his, a football player, one of the only ones he had ever rejected, attempted to take his own life. Kurt knew it wasn't his fault, even though the boy had professed his love to him. But he couldn't help thinking maybe if he had just fucked the poor guy...

And then his own father's words came back to him from that time he decided to give Kurt "the talk". His father, who he assumed had once been in love, tried to shove it all down his throat about not throwing himself around and how sex did something to a person. As far as Kurt was concerned, sex definitely did something to him: it made him feel good. It was that simple. But maybe it wasn't that simple for everyone, he thought. Still, he had appreciated his father's concern and the way he had always cared about him and stood by him no matter how much trouble he got himself into. It was the reason he wrote a check every month and sent it back to Ohio.

When it all came down to it, Kurt never saw anything good come from love. His mother died, that football player tried to hang himself, and Emmett...he wasn't even sure what was up with him. But it seemed like the more Kurt denied him, the more bitter and prickly he became. Nope. He had never seen any proof that it did any good or even existed for that matter. If it did, it definitely was not something worth trying.

"There you go. We're all done here, Mr. Hummel," Cristofer said after helping Kurt back into his boots. He stood up to once again help Kurt from the chair. Snapping out of the trance he had entered, Kurt reached out to take his hand. He didn't take the offered hand because he needed the help, he was more than capable; he took Cristofer's hand because it was just another opportunity to be waited on and to touch the man.

Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A crisp hundred in hand, Kurt grabbed Cristofer's hips and slowly slid his hand with the bill into the man's back pocket, allowing his hand to linger on his ass before lightly squeezing. Bill deposited, he removed his hands from the man and stepped back.

"Thanks," Kurt said, winking.

As he headed out, he called a car to take him home, but, while in the car he began to think about that inconvenient moment during his massage, the flashbacks, and the memory of the morning that almost spoiled his entire day.

"Change of plans," Kurt said to the driver. "Drop me off a few blocks down. I'm in need of a few drinks." The driver nodded at him through the rearview mirror.

Just as requested, the driver soon pulled over and let Kurt out. After climbing out of the car, feeling refreshed and relaxed from the spa, Kurt made his way toward the door of the closest club to wash away all the unpleasant things he had heard and thought about during the day.

He walked up to the bouncer who nodded at him and immediately permitted him entry: his face was his ticket into wherever he so pleased to go. Tonight, he was going to have fun; if he wanted to forget, he was going to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt rolled over, taking note of his half-open shirt and pants on the floor in front of the couch where he had passed out. He reached up and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth before pulling himself up into a sitting position.

Emmett set a cup of coffee down on the table in front of Kurt and quickly walked back toward the kitchen. Kurt leaned forward and fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded pants to check the time: 6:38 AM.

"Em," Kurt called out. "What happened last night?" He stared at the screen of his phone where it showed numerous missed calls and messages. He set the phone aside, not wanting to bother with it at the moment.

The other man did not answer, but a few moments later, he returned with a cup of tea for himself and a bagel on a plate for Kurt.

"Eat," he said. "You drank way too much, and I had to make sure you didn't die in your sleep." Emmett's expression and tone were stern and unwavering and made Kurt feel like a whipped puppy.

"What a way to greet someone in the morning. But - thanks," Kurt said, begrudgingly taking the bagel and lifting the mug of coffee up to take a sip. He grimaced at the bitter taste and set the mug back down on the table before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Black coffee? Seriously? Emmett must really be pissed, Kurt thought.

"And consider yourself especially lucky, because if I hadn't found you and dragged you back here, you probably would have died on the side of the road or in some back alleyway with the garbage. Do you realize that you snorted coke off of some pornstar's stomach and then proceeded to make out with a very high profile actor?"

"I must have been really fucked up. Oh - yeah. That would explain the sinus headache," Kurt mumbled and then sniffled. He put his face in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "Well, thanks, mom."

"You're welcome - _Kurt_. But, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the studio. We're recording a new track today."

"Oh. I always forget what you do with your free time when it's not me." Kurt leaned back and grinned crookedly.

"It's my career, Kurt," Emmett said, offended. "I've been singing and performing with the group for years."

"And I'm sure you have a lovely voice."

Emmett just glared at Kurt.

"You know what I'll never be able to figure out? How you, a thirty-six-year-old man, still have the energy and libido of a sixteen-year-old boy," Emmett shot at Kurt.

"Baffles me too, honey. But I don't question it, I just take advantage of it -"

"Among other things," Emmett huffed. "But I'm going now."

"Good. Because you need to loosen up. I'm sure you'll come back though - you always do."

"It's like I enjoy the abuse or something," Emmett grumbled to himself. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

Kurt laughed to himself, shaking his head, and then reached over to grab the remote. He turned on the television, and the news came into focus. But what he saw made his stomach drop. His jaw nearly fell to the floor, and his eyes grew wide as his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"What the fuck -" Kurt nearly shouted. He rubbed his eyes and turned the volume up to make sure his eyes and ears weren't playing tricks on him. A breaking news report played on loop, and, as he listened and stared dumbfounded, a ringing began in his ears and grew louder and louder until it was almost deafening.

_"At approximately 2AM this morning, the building that houses Hummel Industries corporate headquarters caught fire on all levels. It appears to have been some type of extremely powerful explosive, but there are no signs of damage from the outside. Thankfully, the blast occurred after business hours, and sources are reporting that there were no casualties. Firefighters have been on the scene since the early hours of the morning attempting to extinguish the flames with hopes of saving the building, but it appears to already be too late. An investigation will be conducted to find the source of the fire."_

He watched as they replayed footage of the fire engulfing his office building. Dark smoke billowed up into the air as the fire hoses continued to drench the building, but they were right: it was too late. All that remained was a charred skeleton of what was once a grand skyscraper. It was gone, reduced to ashes.

Kurt felt tears welling in his eyes, and he let them pour down his face. It was all gone. His body went numb. He had almost nothing left. How could this have happened? Who could have done this? He wasn't sure if the tears were more for fear that he was being targeted or for the loss of everything he had built toward over the past decade.

Unable to watch any longer, Kurt turned off the television and, trembling, ran to his bathroom and shut the door. He paced for a few minutes, unsure of what to do, and then he turned on the shower, slipped out of his clothes, and got in.

The shower had helped to calm his nerves, but when he stepped out, Kurt felt sick to his stomach. He stumbled around the apartment in a daze of shock and disbelief. He had been in control, had so much power, but now he felt weak, crippled.

He pulled apart his drawers and closet, unable to focus on what he would wear for the day. When Kurt pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, he felt something flat and smooth in the pocket. Sliding his fingers in to pull it out, he found what looked like a business card folded in half. He unfolded it, and what he saw scrawled across it was the final straw:

_"RUN"_

Kurt dropped the note to the floor as if it had just burned him, and his heart leaped into his throat. Run. Memories of the ominous letter on his desk, the bizarre warning on the page of the magazine that he had thought was his imagination, and now this: Run. There was no questioning this one. His heart pounded against his rib cage. His office had been demolished by an act of intimidation, and he could be next.

Quickly, Kurt pulled open his closet again and pulled out his luggage. Then he frantically shoved shoes, clothing, and other necessities into the suitcases before heading to the bathroom and practically dumping the contents of the drawers under his sink into them as well. He grabbed his wallet, passport, and keys, and, just as he was about to take off, he scribbled down a note:

_"Emmett,_

_Will be away on business._

_Please feed Anna. Thanks._

_- Kurt"_

And then he locked up the apartment, called a car, and took off on his way to the airport. He didn't know where he was going yet, but he was getting as far away as he possibly could.

-s-

Mouth sliding roughly against the other man's, Kurt tugged at the blond's shirt, stumbling backwards into the hotel room until they were only feet away from the bed. Grabbing his hips, Kurt spun the man around and pushed him down onto the mattress. He crawled onto the bed and, on his hands and knees, hovered above the man's body before connecting their mouths again.

"Just tonight," Kurt slurred against the man's mouth as his hands made their way into the already ruffled hair of his company. "Just want to feel something."

"'S okay. It's good."

In a drunken haze, Kurt's fingers scrambled to pull the man's shirt off over his head before moving to his pants which he managed to skillfully remove even in his impaired state. All he could think about since he touched down in Deutschland was how he had to keep moving; it was all he knew. So after he checked into the hotel, he quickly went back out, keen on finding the quickest and closest place to mentally check out.

And he kept moving until they were both stripped down, dripping in sweat, and he was moving inside the other man. Although he felt like he might be losing his mind, his promiscuity was the only thing keeping him grounded. It was the only thing currently reminding him that he was still alive, that he still had control over some part of his life. It didn't mean anything to him, it never meant anything to him. But it had become such a visceral act to Kurt that he wondered if he was even enjoying it anymore. When his orgasm hit him, Kurt's mind went blank, and he collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

Kurt had only dozed off for a moment before he opened his eyes again. As he turned his head drowsily to the side, the soft glow of the sunrise was visible through the fringed gold lamé curtains that, now that he was sobering up, made Kurt begin to question the taste of whoever was in charge of the interior decor. There was a solution to his irksome discovery, of course, and it came in a bottle that was currently sitting within arm's length on the nightstand. He sat up, pulled on his briefs, and poured a generous amount into a glass.

"Guten morgen, Captain Morgan," Kurt said as he lifted the glass of rum to his mouth while the mouth of the man from the night before made its way beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. After he drained the glass, Kurt set it on the nightstand and looked down at the face of the handsome stranger he had picked up at a Berlin nightclub. They had danced into the early hours of the morning before bringing the party back to his hotel bed. The spinning in his head and the constant motion of his body was enough to keep everything at bay.

"It seems like you really want a little captain in you...again," Kurt jested.

The man, lips already wrapped around the head of Kurt's cock, grinned and took the rest of Kurt into his mouth. Kurt laid back, closed his eyes, and shut everything out again.

-s-

He stared into the glass display case at Fassbender & Rausch, and suddenly Kurt felt like he was five years old again. His mouth began to water; he wanted one of everything, and he thought he would live here if he could. A vague memory of his mother's kind, smiling face surfaced in his mind. He could recall her sweet perfume and the way she would always wrap her arms around him and hold him when he was sad. A chill traveled the length of Kurt's spine, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around him in discomfort. His mother was responsible for the sweet tooth he had been nursing for much of his life and for his first love: chocolate. She had made it a habit to sneak him sweets and cakes behind his father's back. Every Monday, she would come home after work, when his father was still at the shop, with a small bag of chocolates she had picked up from a little shop on her way back.

_"There you go, Kurt. Don't tell Daddy. It'll be our little secret," she said with a grin, placing the small piece of chocolate into Kurt's tiny, eager hand._

_"Thank you, Mom. I promise. My lips are sealed." And he popped the entire piece into his little mouth. His mother laughed as he tried to maneuver the candy around with his tongue, and it ended up jammed up against his cheek. They both began to laugh as little Kurt realized his mistake and that maybe it wasn't the best idea to try to take it all in one bite. Even if it did taste so good._

It had been only days before Kurt's ninth birthday when his world halted. When she didn't come home for Friday night dinner, Kurt didn't fully understand it at the time. His mother left him right before his birthday. His young mind couldn't handle it, and he was angry. He felt betrayed, felt as if his mother had gone away on purpose right before one of the days where he was meant to be happy. And she ruined it. He thought it possible that his father had cried more than it rained that spring.

And Kurt had cried until he no longer could. The house became quiet and felt empty in the following months. There was a silent, mutual understanding between him and his father that it would never be the same at home again. But although she was gone, no matter what, Kurt would never tell their secret. It was a sweet, little piece of his mother's memory for him to keep for himself.

He felt like if he didn't hold onto it, it would all be lost forever.

But he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember these days.

He left the chocolatier with two small pieces of chocolate.

-s-

His stay in Germany didn't last long, and soon he was off to somewhere more him: Italy. He decided he very much liked the men there and, of course, the fashion; he spent most of his time strolling around Milan, throwing money at anyone or anything that caught his attention. But eventually he began to feel that paranoia and fear in his gut again, so he flew even farther to a place he didn't think people would ever suspect him to go.

-s-

When Kurt stepped off the plane in Dubai, he was stunned at how grand the city was. After checking into a hotel, he wandered around, past shopping malls, markets, and office buildings until he came across a theater. Stepping inside, he relished the familiarity of it all, especially because he was so far from home. As his eyes scanned the rows of empty seats, the stage, the ornate fixtures, and balconies above, Kurt's chest tightened as suppressed emotions resurfaced that he did not possess the strength to keep down in his current state. He took a few steps down the aisle and, stepping into one of the rows, sank down into one of the seats.

Ever since he was a child, Kurt had wanted to be an actor. A performer. To take on different roles day after day, wear fabulous costumes, and sing and dance to his heart's content in front of a live audience. So, after a successful stint in his high school show choir and drama club, he auditioned for all the big performing arts schools in New York: The New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts, Tisch, and even Juilliard. And it came as no surprise to him that he was accepted into all of them. It did, however, surprise everyone that he didn't choose Juilliard.

He may have had the talent and the charm, but being the son of a mechanic, he didn't have the funds to back it up. Pretty soon he found that, even with a scholarship, NYCDA was a struggle to afford while boarding in the city.

And that's why it was all the more tempting when he was approached after one of his introductory acting classes by a stranger with an even stranger request.

_"You have a talent," the man had told him._

_"Well, yeah, I know," Kurt said smugly. "I have several, actually."_

_"No, I mean, you could go places with the way you command a crowd. Screw acting, man. I wish you could have seen...could have felt the energy in the classroom today. It was like you had everyone under a spell while you were speaking."_

_"Thanks? But I'm not sure what you're getting at."_

_"Listen. Do you want to be a starving artist, or do you want to make some real money with your skills?"_

_"Broadway has always been my dream."_

_"What if I told you I have an uncle who works on Wall Street and could teach you a few things that would make you a very wealthy man? Hell, you could even own Broadway one day if you play your cards right."_

_"I do need help paying for school, and, as successful as I'd be at it, I've ruled out prostitution as an option," Kurt joked. "Can I think about it?"_

_"Of course. Here - take his business card. Give him a call when you're ready."_

_"Okay."_

But now he wasn't on Broadway, he wasn't a grand performer. But he was an actor, alright. A fraud, living each day masquerading as some ritzy businessman who had it all together but didn't. Because he knew the truth, and the truth was that he had no idea how it all happened, but he could pinpoint the exact moment it had all begun: the shady deals, the blackmail, and the intimidation. He did some things he wasn't proud of, and if he'd had even a smidgen of a conscience once, it was long gone now. He became obsessed and drunk off the power he had over people after realizing just how much he could gain. Soon enough, he had built up the confidence to break away from his mentor and build his own business based on pure manipulation. The rest was history, the details of which he liked to convince himself were unimportant now.

He took a deep breath and let out a drawn out sigh. It did no good to linger on past dreams, and Kurt knew it. They were irrelevant now. In fact, everything was irrelevant now that he found himself desperate, exiled, and virtually penniless.

When Kurt finally left the theater, he headed back to his hotel where he ordered a bottle of wine and drank until he passed out.

-s-

When he felt like he had stayed for too long in Dubai, he took off again, traveling East to India and then settling again in Japan. But when he was on a quest to find something to eat one night, he hit a roadblock that put an abrupt and rather unpleasant end to his travels.

"Oh. No. No, no, no," Kurt said in a panic. "This can't be happening. What do you mean my accounts have been frozen? Because of suspected fraud?! This is extremely inconvenient. Now what am I supposed to do?" He hung up the phone and nearly threw it against the wall of the building in his frustration.

Nothing. He was Kurt Hummel, and he was trapped in a foreign country with absolutely nothing. But, surely, he could figure out how to get himself out of this mess?

He had always been quite good at talking himself out of trouble, like the time in high school when he had been caught hanging out under the bleachers skipping physical education class with one of his most memorable issues of _G_ and a pack of cigarettes. He was let off without so much as a detention, because he had convinced the teacher that he was educating himself physically but had chosen not to participate with the rest of the class. Oh, how he remembered it fondly, and he had not since lost his touch. But, as it were, his fortune did seem to be fading, and he didn't know for how much longer he could get away with it all.

And Kurt was glad that Tokyo, like New York, was lit up indefinitely because he was now out on the street with nowhere to rest for the night. He had his options, but he decided to make the best of what he had left and entered a club where he hoped to forget about his situation.

-s-

Kurt blinked his eyes open and looked around at his dimly lit surroundings. When it all registered, he found himself naked beside not one but four other men. It must have been a good night, he thought. But then he remembered just how screwed he actually was. A musty, herbal-scented haze filled the air, and he sat up to see one of the men had already risen and was holding a smoking apparatus of some sort. He turned his head to meet Kurt's eyes and smiled.

"Alright. What have I got to lose?" Kurt said to himself as he pulled on his clothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** If you have made it this far in the story, then thank you so much for sticking around. Things are about to become about ten times stranger, and I hope that everyone has figured out by this point that this is in fact a fantasy AU. If this chapter turns you completely off from the story, then I apologize; but, if you're still interested, I think you'll enjoy the rest of the story. :)

* * *

As the other men began to stir, Kurt's senses were overwhelmed by the burning plant and the stench of too much sex lingering in the air and on his skin. But he was now numb to it all, his choices, actions, and their inevitable consequences. He had officially thrown all decency out of the window in his desperate and helpless state. This was what it felt like to give up.

"I have no idea what you guys are saying - can't understand a word of it. But, I'll take that lovely pipe you have there and smoke it. What could be the harm?" Kurt jested, addressing the group of young men.

He took a hit, and he was gone.

-s-

"What the -?" Kurt blinked hard, finding it difficult to register anything at first. He realized that he was face down in the dirt and then groaned. "This must be what hitting rock bottom feels like. Am I even alive? I feel like I died," he said, lifting his head, his eyes finally adjusting enough to get a good look at his surroundings.

He was in an overgrown field of some sort, but the air around him seemed strange, alive somehow, and the plants were unusual and seemed to be thrumming. Then a pain shot through his arm as he rolled over, and he yelled out, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle his outburst.

"Well, I'm definitely still alive - definitely alive, but I must still be tripping, because I've never seen anything like _that_ before," he said as his eyes caught the movement of a small butterfly-like insect that appeared to be glowing. Then it burst into flames before his eyes and he shrieked, pulling himself up into a sitting position, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest as ice shot through his veins.

"This is a bad trip, a very very bad trip," he muttered to himself. "I need - I need to figure out how to make it stop. I've gotta get out of this nightmare world."

But as he stood up, he realized that the world around him was more solid, more defined than any drug-induced, hallucinated world could be with nothing fuzzy around the edges. In fact, it was so much more vivid than the world he had passed out in. And now he was what? Waking up in some version of Oz? Did he fall down the rabbit hole and was too out of it to even notice his descent into Wonderland? Or was he trapped inside some pervert's magical chocolate factory, and he would have to eat his way out?

This place didn't smell like sweets and high fructose corn syrup - no, there was something fresh about the air, something earthy and - pure. It almost stung Kurt's nose and lungs to breathe it in after years of cycling polluted New York's best through his body as well as the toxins from that nasty little habit he had picked up along the way.

"Alright, time to get up. Time to get up, Dorothy. This is not the Midwest, and it sure as hell isn't New York," he said under his breath. After some difficulty rising to his feet, he habitually reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, but his pocket was empty. Frantically, Kurt patted down every pocket in his outfit only to find that they were all completely empty: no cigarettes, no lighter, no wallet, no phone...

"Shit. Shit, _shit_," he swore as he ran his hands through his hair, nearly yanking it out in his frustration. He was glad there were no mirrors around, because he couldn't even imagine how disheveled and utterly pathetic he looked in this moment. He knew he needed to find civilization of some sort - and soon - because he wouldn't last long on his own, and it was only a matter of time before his body began to completely malfunction from the lack of nicotine.

He tilted his head upward and gazed at the sky. It was so strikingly blue, almost indigo, but brightened by the rays of the burning sun that hung low in the sky. There were clouds drifting by, but even they seemed cleaner and more translucent than any he had ever seen before.

Kurt shook his head and rubbed his eyes, returning his gaze to his immediate surroundings. He could see a patch of woods up ahead just beyond the field, and there appeared to be a pathway. That's a good sign, he thought, so he began to lumber on toward the trees, hoping that his luck would improve even just a little bit.

When he reached the edge of the field, he cautiously stepped onto the path and began his trek toward god only knew what. At that point, he was just happy to be alive, and his instinct was to find a way to keep it that way.

-s-

Kurt ducked under a branch and followed the path through to a clearing. It felt like he had been walking all day, and he still couldn't figure out where he was and why he hadn't seen any signs of life save the insects, birds, and strange plants. Then his stomach rumbled, and he placed a hand over the offending party. Great. If only he could find a freaking Chipotle or even a McDonald's. But he was fairly certain that the chances of that would be like finding a fifty-gallon water cooler filled with Aquadeco in the middle of a desert. Speaking of water, his tongue was beginning to dry out from all the walking, and he could now add parched to his list of woes.

He heard another sound, but this time it wasn't his stomach. Kurt whipped his head around and looked up through the trees around him. Then something caught his eye, and he froze dead still. There was something moving toward him. No, it was a someone, and he squinted as the someone came into focus. The first thing he noticed was the lack of clothing, leaving the person's chest and arms exposed. But as the man came into view - definitely a man - and walked toward him, not stopping until he was about three feet away, Kurt began to notice much much more about this individual. What struck him first were the round, bright, and curious hazel eyes staring directly into his, captivating him and holding him to the spot. The man had neat, dark curls atop his head, his skin was smooth and almost bronze, and his body was small, but, boy, was he toned. The corners of Kurt's lips began to curl upward as he wondered about the stranger.

"Well aren't you a cute little thing," Kurt said, biting his lip, his eyes fixed intently on the man's smooth, muscled chest after running the course of his body. "I snap my fingers, and men come - to me," Kurt laughed at himself, taken by his own cleverness. "But I can't say I've seen anyone quite like you before."

"I don't know anything about snapping fingers, but I felt a presence nearby, and I sensed distress. So I came," the man said in a rich baritone. Kurt licked his dry, cracked lips and stepped forward toward the man, knowing that he wanted to become acquainted.

"I'm Kurt Hummel, billionaire bachelor, the King of Manhattan, and your next wet dream," he said, grinning and holding his hand out in front of him for the man to shake. But the man stared at his hand apprehensively and didn't take it.

"Do you offer your hand to many?" the man asked, discomfort evident in his eyes. Kurt's cocky grin fell away at the question, and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, they usually offer one to me, but if they ask..." Kurt said, winking. Then he surveyed the man again, swallowing thickly. "What is your name?" he asked, now slightly irritated but nonetheless amused.

"Blaine," he answered.

"Blaine. I like that. Just Blaine?"

"Yes. Blaine."

Just then, Kurt saw something flash in Blaine's eyes and he noticed his expression soften.

"And what the hell are you supposed to be?" Kurt asked, taking a few steps back as he spoke. He wasn't ready for all of this nonsense, and now he was certain that this man wasn't quite human.

"I'm a faerie," Blaine said plainly.

"Pardon?" Kurt said, narrowing his eyes and stepping back again.

"Of the fae -?" Blaine said, tilting his head to the side, perplexed by Kurt's confusion and lack of such basic knowledge.

"Doesn't ring a bell. But where I'm from, you don't want to be called a fairy."

"I don't understand," Blaine said.

"It's probably better that way." Kurt laughed nervously to himself. He glanced around at the trees again, and then, realizing that this strange little fairy man was his only hope for survival, bit down on his already sore lip and felt his usual cockiness slipping away.

"It's not what I'm called, it's what I am."

Finally breaking eye contact with Kurt, Blaine glanced around.

"You said you're a king?" Blaine asked after a moment of silence. "I have never heard of Manhattan."

"I'm not actually a king," Kurt admitted, "but I live like one." Then Kurt winced and cried out as pain shot through his arm.

"Are you okay? Are you injured?" Blaine asked, reaching out toward Kurt but then drawing away, uncertain of whether or not he should touch him.

"I don't know what happened, but it's my arm. Must have slept on it funny or something." Kurt struggled to pull up his sleeve and saw that it was swollen and bruised. His stomach turned at the sight.

"That doesn't look good. I can take you back to my village and have that treated. I'm sure you could use some food and rest, too. Here," Blaine said, unlatching a pouch of some sort from his belt. "It's water. Drink before you shrivel up."

"At this point, I'll take what I can get," he said defeatedly. "But - thank you." Kurt took the pouch from Blaine and squeezed water out of it into his mouth. He felt the cool, sweet liquid rush through his system, immediately feeling refreshed, and his body thanked him profusely.

-s-

It turned out that they weren't as close to the village as Kurt had hoped, but he was glad that Blaine had struck up a conversation that kept him distracted from what was ailing him as they walked along. Blaine was surprisingly easy to talk to, even if he did seem a bit odd and perhaps immature. And on top of Kurt's body protesting every step they took, the weather around them continued to change rapidly, jumping from one extreme to another, causing Kurt to grumble at his discomfort. But Blaine seemed unfazed by everything.

Kurt's head hurt from trying to process everything he was experiencing, the things he was seeing and the existence of faeries: this wasn't Moulin Rouge, Blaine wasn't green, and he knew he was stone-cold sober as can be. Then the hollowness in his stomach and the pounding in his head intensified, and he began to feel dizzy.

"How much farther? I feel like I'm about to pass out," Kurt whined as he nearly tripped over a fallen branch. His stomach swooped, but he caught himself and regained his balance, saving him from embarrassment and further injury.

"We're almost there. It's just through that field and into the mountain," Blaine said, pointing a little way off into the distance.

"Into the mountain? Like, _inside_ the mountain?"

"Yes. Luxterra Barrow, but the locals have taken to calling it just The Barrow. It's a bit of a joke, actually," Blaine explained. It was completely lost on Kurt.

Oh, great, Kurt thought. He was being dragged underground into a faerie village now. He didn't think his life could become any more bizarre than in this moment. And he tried to recall what he knew about faeries from children's stories and movies, but he was drawing a blank past Tinker Bell who Blaine resembled in no way, shape, or form.

When they arrived at the mountain and entered through the gates, Kurt found that what he had imagined the underground faerie village to be like was way off from the reality of it. It resembled a small city with shops, buildings, and even individual homes, but the Romanesque structures were built into and out of the stone walls: everything was round archways, columns, and small windows.

The only thing that was missing in this underground wonder was the sun, which he wasn't really a fan of to begin with. There was still a sufficient supply of light from numerous lanterns that hung in the air and created a perpetual starry night sky. And it was warm and dry under the mountain, which was a much welcome relief.

As they walked along, passersby turned to gaze at Kurt with wide, curious eyes, and he almost wanted to snarl at them to scare them away. But he was too exhausted to bother. Let them stare, he thought; he must be like a freak on display or some demented pet that Blaine is dragging home in hopes that his mother will let him keep it.

Then they came to an abrupt stop, catching Kurt by surprise because he had been too busy brooding and staring at his feet for the past few minutes, mourning the state of his pants and boots. He almost walked into Blaine, but he caught himself just before they collided.

"This is my home," Blaine said. Kurt looked up and took in what appeared to be a small, stone mansion. "My parents are probably not here, but it'll be fine if I take you inside. They'll understand."

"If you say so," Kurt said and then followed Blaine in through the ornately carved doors framed by pillars that resembled vines, twisted and wrapped around each other as they snaked up toward the roof. When they entered the main room, Kurt gasped at how beautiful and intricate the interior architecture and stone work was. Everything was a smooth, white marble, and Kurt's mouth hung open for a moment before he realized it and snapped it back shut.

"This is where you live? If this is your home, then why do you walk around half nude and in those boring, uninspired pants?"

"Yes, I live here, and what I wear is a uniform of distinction. I think _your_ clothing is strange. Why do you wear all of those layers?" Blaine asked. "And what is that extra piece of cloth you have at your neck?"

"My clothing is anything but _strange_," Kurt said. "This is Ralph Lauren, thank you very much, although now it just looks like someone _ralphed_ on it," Kurt said as he looked down at his sullied outfit in disgust. "And this thing around my neck is a bow tie," Kurt said, tugging at it.

"A bow tie? I kinda like it," Blaine said with a shy smile.

"You can have it," Kurt said, pulling it loose and allowing it to hang untied around his neck. Blaine just smiled and looked down.

"I'm sorry. I know you're probably starving, and I need to tend to that arm," Blaine said, looking back up at Kurt. "Follow me."

He led Kurt up a small spiral staircase and into a room just off to the right.

"Go ahead, lay down," Blaine said. He helped a somewhat apprehensive Kurt into the bed, then, gently, they both worked to remove Kurt's shirt.

Although he wasn't in his usual spirits, Kurt enjoyed the attention Blaine was giving him, and now that they were alone, in a bedroom no less, his mind began to wander. He soon felt himself reacting to Blaine's warm, soft touches on his chest and arms, and he reached up and grabbed Blaine's wrist, suddenly hungry to really become acquainted with the man; and if he really wasn't human, Kurt was up for a little experimentation. Blaine jumped and tried to pull away, looking into Kurt's face with confusion in his eyes.

"Do you know how hot you are?" Kurt asked. "It's sweet how you want to play doctor, but can you really take care of me?"

"I don't know what you mean," Blaine said nervously. Kurt leaned forward in the bed, bringing his face close to Blaine's.

"My arm isn't the only part of me that needs attention," Kurt said, now slowly pulling Blaine's hand down toward his hips to give him a clue.

"K-Kurt," Blaine stuttered.

Then Kurt moved his face in closer to Blaine's, but Blaine pulled away and out of Kurt's grip.

"That's odd...I've never been rejected before," Kurt said, pouting. "Is it because my arm doesn't work? Because, honey, I have a mouth that is still functioning."

"Kurt, I don't know what you want from me. I can't give you what you're asking for. If that's your form of affection, I don't understand it, and I'm not sure why you want to share it with me."

"Have you seen yourself?"

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Kurt was silent as Blaine finished treating and dressing his arm, ruminating in this newfound feeling of rejection, of not getting what he wanted from someone. Maybe it was because Blaine was straight? No - that was never an issue for Kurt before. He just wished he could understand why now, after all these years, was getting sex becoming an issue. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

"I know you're hungry," Blaine said. "I'll prepare something and be back up. You should try to rest. It's been a long day." And then Blaine looked down at Kurt in the bed and a small grin crept across his face before he hurried out of the room.

As promised, Blaine returned shortly with soup and an assortment of dishes that Kurt had never seen anything like before. But he took it, and he ate until he was full because he would rather not starve. Besides, it all ended up tasting pretty good, and Kurt was pleasantly surprised. He didn't even have to eat too much before he was full, and he felt energized in a way he hadn't in the past. His headache even subsided, and he found it possible to relax.

But as the evening progressed, the rejected advances Kurt had made on Blaine really began to gnaw at him. Blaine had been sitting in the room eating alongside Kurt, and Kurt kept stealing glances at the man. He was beautiful in a way Kurt couldn't really describe: he'd seen plenty of gorgeous actors and models whose stylists and makeup artists possessed phenomenal skills, but there was something about Blaine that the right lighting or a brush and some color in the right places could not achieve. Putting it simply, he was naturally beautiful. There was something so youthful and innocent in his eyes, his complexion was golden and smooth, and Kurt wanted to run his hands through his thick curls and his tongue across his impeccable jawline.

Oh, god. He really needed to get laid, Kurt thought as he looked away from Blaine and closed his eyes. But instead of pushing his luck and possibly facing even more rejection and scaring his caretaker away, Kurt sighed and decided to accept that Blaine wasn't interested. At least, for now.

"Listen, Blaine," Kurt began. "About earlier...I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Blaine said. His eyes scanned Kurt's face and then traveled to his arm before he rose from his seat. "I need to get some sleep. I'll be in the next room if you need me. I'll see you in the morning." Blaine cleaned up the dishes, turned, and left the room.

For one brief moment, Kurt thought about pushing his luck anyway and was tempted to wander over into the next room. But he was exhausted, so he laid back, pulled the covers up around himself, and drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Although Kurt hadn't seen the sun while cooped up in the subterranean mansion, he knew that days had passed. He wasn't quite sleeping regularly, but his body was beginning to ease into a cycle based on Blaine's activity around the house and his eating and sleeping habits.

At least once, he had woken up to Blaine's face looming over him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out a string of profanities that startled Blaine and caused him to step back, apologize, and assure Kurt that he was only checking in to see if he was okay and to wake him for breakfast. But every time Kurt went to sleep and woke up here, he was slapped with the hard reality of his surreal situation.

Blaine continued to care for Kurt, preparing foods which he ate without question, trusting that Blaine wasn't out to poison him or trying to fatten him up to devour him. And Kurt continued to behave himself, although it really pained him to do so; he would take care of his frustration in the evening after watching Blaine turn around and leave the room on his way to bed. The image of his deliciously round bottom walking away was enough for Kurt's imagination, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as the things he imagined doing to him if only he could.

Blaine showed Kurt around the house, helped him bathe at Kurt's request and feigned weakness - his arm was still a bit sore - , and gave him some of his own fresh clothes to wear. Kurt scrunched up his nose at the stiff, navy pants that were about two inches too small on him, but, knowing he had no other choice, he reluctantly pulled them on. Luckily, Blaine had a robe spun from a light, silky fabric, and Kurt claimed it as his own; there was no way he was walking around with his chest exposed. He would just feel so...naked. The robe hung almost to his knees and was reminiscent of those long sweaters he used to be so fond of back in high school.

Kurt began to feel his strength returning to his body by the fifth day, but then, having not had a cigarette in what felt like ages, his body decided it had had enough.

Kurt was curled up on his side in the bed, gripping his stomach and groaning quite loudly, and a concerned Blaine soon came rushing into the room looking alarmed.

"I'm _dying_," Kurt said, accompanied by an exaggerated whimper. "I feel like my insides are trying to break out of my body, and my head feels like someone smacked me with a cast iron frying pan."

Blaine approached the bed and looked Kurt over, knitting his brows as he examined Kurt's current state.

"You're sweating, and you're burning up, but I don't think you're dying," Blaine said as he placed his hand on Kurt's face. Kurt shuddered at the touch, and Blaine withdrew his hand. "I'll be right back."

He left the room but soon returned with a cloth and a small basin of water. Blaine dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and then sat down by Kurt whose eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he continued to emit various noises of discomfort.

"Lay back and try to relax," Blaine said, pressing the cool compress against Kurt's forehead as he began to shake and chills shot up and down his spine. "I've never seen a fever like this before."

"How is that supposed to help me relax? And that's because this is my body pissed at me for cutting off its nicotine input," Kurt groaned.

"I've never heard of nicotine, but it must be dangerous. Your body is acting as if it's dispelling poison." Blaine began to wipe the perspiration from Kurt's face and neck, and Kurt shifted painfully on the bed, rolling onto his back.

"That's because it is. And don't ask me why I ever chose to put it into my body, because right now I wish I hadn't," Kurt said.

"I'll make you tea we use to cleanse the body of illness," Blaine explained. "It should help you feel much better." He placed the cool cloth back into the basin by the bed. Blaine reached over and, faltering, gently brushed Kurt's hair out of his face with his fingertips. Kurt shivered from the touch, and Blaine pulled away again. Even though he was delirious, Kurt began to really appreciate his luck in finding Blaine who had taken to caring for him without a single complaint - and perhaps he was beginning to appreciate Blaine. But that was probably just the fever.

-s-

Over the course of the week since Kurt had arrived, rumors were quickly spreading throughout the colony. There was speculation about who this mysterious stranger was and why he had shown up with Blaine. They didn't understand the way he dressed, and many were skeptical about Kurt being underground with them.

Blaine had wandered into town to shop for more ingredients for meals since he was running low from caring for Kurt, and he caught a snippet of conversation that caused him to freeze where he stood.

"What is he doing bringing him into The Barrow? He doesn't belong here."

"And did you notice the way he was dressed? I don't think he's even from our world."

"How is that possible? You can believe what you want, but I'm suspicious about Blaine's actions. I mean, he returns from Ivory Wood looking miserable, and then he brings home a strange boy and disappears inside for days."

"I always thought there was something odd about him, and I don't care who his parents are."

"He's such a nice boy, though. We don't know what happened when he was away, and maybe there's something about this otherworldly boy that will help us find the answer to all the chaos we've been dealing with lately."

"If he isn't from Gaia Mitera, then the divide between the realms must be very weak, and there's no doubt we are in danger now."

He couldn't listen any longer. Hands trembling from nerves, Blaine paid for the vegetables, herbs, and spices he had picked up and rushed out of the shop, trying his best to go unnoticed.

-s-

As much as Kurt enjoyed beds and what he usually did in them, he had now been confined to one for much longer than he would have preferred. When his withdrawal symptoms finally subsided thanks to that amazing tea that Blaine brewed, he had taken to wandering the house. However, everything was still so strange to him, and Kurt was too afraid to touch anything or leave the house, finding himself generally lethargic with no means of entertaining himself.

After almost going mad in the quiet of the nearly empty house, Kurt couldn't help but start to wonder about something. It struck him as odd that, after all this time, Blaine's parents had never come home. He wanted to find out why.

"They're away at council," Blaine told him when Kurt finally asked over a cup of tea that afternoon. "They travel a lot and are currently on an important mission concerning the realm."

"So they're politicians? The mansion makes sense now," Kurt said before taking a sip of his tea.

"Politicians? They represent Luxterra Barrow at the Chief Council in Ivory Wood. They're our voice," Blaine explained.

"That makes you kind of important then."

"Yes. I mean, I'm their only son." Blaine stared down into his cup, watching the steam rise off the surface.

"At least you won't have to fight anyone over the inheritance." Kurt began to laugh, but he stopped when he noticed Blaine wasn't responding; he was sure it had gone way over his head. In fact, Kurt was realizing that there was a definite barrier between him and Blaine when it came to most things. He was used to laughing at his own jokes, but it would have been nice to at least receive the familiar rolling of the eyes or glare of disgust.

"Are you feeling better now, Kurt?" Blaine asked, finally lifting his head again to look at Kurt.

"Yeah, I feel much better, actually. Whatever it is you've been feeding me must have your faerie magic in it, because I've never had so much energy."

"There's no such thing as magic," Blaine said with a laugh. "If nature is healthy, then the plants we eat are and we thrive."

"You sound a bit like hippies, only without all the free love," Kurt joked.

"Maybe," Blaine said, although he never understood Kurt's references. He hesitated for a moment as he thought about the gossip he had heard in the market. Knowing that people were talking that way about him made him realize that it was time to take Kurt away from Luxterra Barrow and to search for an explanation. If anything others were saying could be true, he wanted to find out. But he had decided to remain quiet on the topic and keep it to himself.

"If you're better, we should head to Ivory Wood. I think we can find answers for you there."

"Oh, good. I was getting tired of sitting around the house all day. When are we leaving?"

"Tonight," Blaine said.

"Whoa, okay. Let me get myself together," Kurt said.

"You won't need much. Just what you're wearing. I'll pack some ingredients for meals, but it's not a very long trip. We should be there by dawn if we leave by sundown."

Kurt nearly choked on his tea.

-s-

Twigs crunched underneath the soles of Kurt's boots, and every now and then he would kick a small rock in his path. His feet were sore again, and he was cursing the fact that his Louboutins were not made for so much walking. They were worn and absolutely destroyed by this point. On two occasions, he had even stepped in swampy patches of mud and sullied the leather which now appeared to be cracking.

He had become comfortable in the clothing Blaine had lent to him, and he now understood the reason Blaine dressed the way he did. Function over fashion, Kurt thought. Although, they were definitely designed for more temperate weather conditions. Blaine was no longer going about without a shirt and was wearing a sort of collared vest that matched the pants Kurt had first seen him in.

"What do you guys call this place, anyway?" Kurt asked.

"What do you mean? The woods?" Blaine asked.

"No. The world you live in."

"Oh. Gaia Mitera." Blaine glanced over at Kurt and snickered. "I'm sorry. It's just that your ignorance is actually endearing, although a bit of a mystery to me. Where are your parents?"

"My parents?" Kurt asked, quirking an eyebrow. "And I'm glad this is all funny to you," he interjected bitterly. "My mother died, and I left my father's home a long time ago."

"I - I'm sorry - " Blaine began, but Kurt cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"It's fine, seriously. I can take care of myself," Kurt huffed indignantly.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked with a slight smirk.

"Of course I'm sure! I've been on my own for years. I'm thirty-six - practically middle-aged," Kurt said, disgusted at the thought. Blaine began to laugh again, and Kurt had the urge to smack the smug look off his face.

"That's ridiculous. You don't look a day older than me, and I've just had my coming out celebration - "

"Coming out?" Kurt nearly spluttered. "That's a thing you publicly celebrate here? I must have been born in the wrong place," he mumbled to himself.

"Of course we celebrate it. It means that I am of age and can now enter into a union," Blaine said, becoming even more amused.

"Okay." Kurt's eyes grew wide. "Not what I was thinking at all. Is there some kinda arranged marriage thing around these parts?"

"Only for the chosen ones, the Keepers," Blaine said.

"Who are they?" Kurt asked.

Blaine grew quiet in contemplation, and his lighthearted and teasing demeanor fell away. Then he cleared his throat and began to explain in a dreadfully serious tone that made Kurt feel uneasy.

"They are the most important entities of our world. Every hundred years, two babies are born on the same day and are soul mates. When they come of age, they are meant to form the perfect union. They're responsible for maintaining the balance of the energies - we need them to exist so that we can exist in a harmonious world," Blaine said.

"Soul mates?" Kurt said, laughing. "Sounds like a bunch of crap to me thought up by some romantic nut."

"Romantic _nut_? You're so odd," Blaine said. "It's common knowledge that in a union two souls mate and come together to become one, hence the union."

"Okay, so I get the mating thing - I'm fantastic at that. But I'm not buying the rest," Kurt said, crossing his arms.

"Kurt, this is serious, and it's something you should try to understand...our world is in danger because of it. Something has upset the natural order, and it seems like one of the soul mates is missing."

"Well, there's obviously something ugly going on around here," Kurt said, as a chilly breeze rushed by only to be followed by an intense wave of heat. He looked up and saw lightning flash across a completely clear night sky almost as if it was competing with the stars to illuminate the darkness. It was all out of place, and he could practically feel the tension and charge in the now still air.

"You've got this ass-backward weather, those creepy exploding bugs, and that animal I saw race off past us about ten minutes ago, whatever the hell it was supposed to be, was not natural at all."

"You're right. And that's why it's so crucial that the soul mates are united - and soon."

"If they're chosen, then why haven't they already gotten everything sorted out? Shouldn't you guys know who your keeper people are?"

"That's just the problem," Blaine explained. "One of the soul mates resides in Ivory Wood, and she's the heir to the throne, but the link seems to have been severed. She's unable make a connection with the others who share her birthdate."

"You look a little glum about this - what's bothering you?" Kurt asked.

"Besides the fact that our world is on the brink of total ruin? Well, I'm one of the possible matches."

"Oh -?" Kurt raised his eyebrows. Blaine appeared flustered and took a moment before continuing.

"When I went to her, there was...nothing. And it's worse, because, I think she's beautiful, but I don't think I could ever love her or that our souls could ever meld in the way they are meant to. Because - because my energy seems completely incompatible with women. It's like my body literally rejects and repels them." Blaine looked embarrassed at his confession.

Kurt snorted.

"You don't say. Well, I hardly see that as an issue," Kurt said, his mind wandering a bit at Blaine's statement.

"It is when you seem to have no potential mate. It's lonely."

Kurt was quiet as he studied Blaine who had grown somber and seemed to become lost in thought, a hardened expression taking over his features. Then Blaine turned his face back toward Kurt, and, although it was dark and his eyes were sad, the way Blaine was now eying him made him feel like the sun's rays were upon his skin again after a long and frigid winter. He quickly turned his head away from Blaine, attempting to rid himself of that unwanted and unnerving feeling.

"Where exactly are you from, anyway?" Blaine asked. "Since it's obvious you're completely unfamiliar with, well, everything, and I've never seen anyone dress or wear their hair like you do. Granted, I haven't been far beyond the halls of Luxterra Barrow or Ivory Wood."

"New York. Well, I'm from Ohio, but it feels like another lifetime."

"I've never heard of either of those villages," Blaine said.

"They're not villages," Kurt corrected him. "They're much, much larger. But they're nowhere near here - wherever here actually is," he said, looking around. "I'm not even sure it's the same world."

"Impossible," Blaine said under his breath but loud enough for Kurt to hear.

"What's impossible? That I somehow ended up here? Obviously it's not - because I'm here, in the flesh."

"No - no. You can't be from another world. I knew from the minute I saw you that you were from this world, just, something was off about you. Like - something was missing."

"Come again?" Kurt said in complete disbelief.

"Well, you're an elf, Kurt," Blaine said as if stating the obvious. "That's why I'm still so puzzled by you. The elves rule these parts and hold all the knowledge of the land, but you know nothing. That's also why we're headed to Ivory Wood where your people reside."

"Um, can't say I've ever been called that before, and I'm not sure if you're trying to insult me. But, no, I'm as human as they come," Kurt said. "I'm afraid you're terribly mistaken and confused."

Blaine began to laugh, and Kurt, confused and offended, shot him a warning look.

"You're not like humans. You never were. You're different, and you've always known it," Blaine said.

"What are you playing at? Yes, I'm gay, and my voice hasn't dropped since I was twelve. Tell me something I don't know," Kurt snapped, unamused by Blaine's accusations.

"No, Kurt. That's not what I mean. There are things about you that are of this world - your voice, your mannerisms, your beauty - I bet you have people falling at your feet with a single word. Or a song."

"I still have no idea where you're going with this. I'm a very convincing person. I know how to get what I want when I want it and as often as I want it. I learned to stop questioning it years ago."

"Kurt."

"Okay, so if what you're telling me is true, then why have I been in the human world my entire life? Why was I born to human parents and raised by humans? None of this is making any sense to me."

"I don't have that answer for you," Blaine said sadly. "But it's certainly worth finding out."

"Well I hope you know where to look then," Kurt said.

"I know exactly where to look. Haven't you ever wondered why you don't seem to age? You think thirty-six years is a long time, but for elves, you're only an adolescent like me."

"Oh joy. I've always wanted to relive my adolescent years," Kurt quipped. "So let me try to get this straight. This alternate world I somehow ended up in is 'Guy-uh Whatsit', you're a wingless faerie man, your world is on the brink of an apocalypse because someone's not getting ass, and now you're telling me I'm some sort of elf creature?"

"I'm not sure why you don't believe me, but it should become clearer soon enough. Hopefully, everything will eventually make sense," Blaine said.

"Yeah, hopefully," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around himself.

Now his mind was reeling, and he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. He wasn't about to take everything Blaine said at face value, but from what he had experienced so far, he wasn't going to completely disregard it either. Still, no amount of Disney or fantasy films and literature could have prepared him for something like this: these types of things didn't really happen, right? He was still waiting to wake up. But he knew that that wasn't how this was going to end for him.

-s-

The wind howled, tugging at Kurt's hair and robes as they pushed on ahead. As they approached a clearing, Kurt's eyes fell upon debris on the ground and swirling about in the air that seemed like the aftermath of a harsh windstorm. Blaine stopped suddenly. But Kurt didn't even need to ask why, because when he looked up, he saw the scattered remains of what was once a village, completely reduced to scraps of wood, torn cloth, and pieces of cracked stone. Not a living being was in sight, and the wind continued to whistle through the trees around them, chilling Kurt to the bone.

"It's gone," Blaine said.

Kurt looked over at Blaine who appeared distraught, standing stock-still as if bolted to the ground and unable to move. He had no idea what to say. He could deduce that a small village had been destroyed, but it had meant nothing to him. He had no connection to this place.

Suddenly, Blaine's knees seemed to give out, and he stumbled over to a tree and placed his palms against it to steady himself and keep from falling over. Kurt, startled by the sudden movement, had reached out to grab at nothing as if he meant to catch Blaine, but he pulled back before slowly making his way over to the tree. He remained silent as he watched Blaine survey the damage, close to tears.

"I - this isn't good. We need to move on quickly. Come on," Blaine said, turning away and waving Kurt forward. Stepping over what looked like a piece of a door frame, Kurt hurried on to catch up with Blaine who had picked up speed, his pace more urgent now.

As they continued on, Kurt noticed patches of woods that were scorched, torn up, and uprooted. Some fields they passed through were more like swamps, flooded out by heavy rains. After hours of walking with a few breaks to eat and rest, the sky had begun to lighten, and Kurt finally saw the sun begin to rise above the horizon. He knew this meant that they must not have too much farther to go.

Blaine didn't need to announce to Kurt that they were getting closer to their destination. He nearly pirouetted as he gazed in awe at the forest that was now comprised of pure white trees; Kurt could only compare them to the sycamores he had seen back in Ohio, but they hadn't been breathtaking like these. Their branches were bare and skeletal and stretched across the sky as if they longed to pull it down on them like a great, blue blanket. The heights to which the branches stretched and the width of the trunks gave Kurt the impression that these woods were ancient, and the smooth, white bark and the calm that surrounded them through which he believed the slightest whisper would echo, sent chills down his spine. These woods felt sacred, and for some reason, he was scared of disturbing them.

The appearance of the start of a cobblestone pathway interrupted Kurt's musings, and it opened up before them, splitting through the trees and winding on toward the town. As they approached the village, structures came into view, and Kurt could hear shouting and what sounded like the roar of an angry crowd. Suddenly, he wasn't so eager to meet the elves.

Just as he suspected, they were met with a large mob in the streets, and he tried to gauge Blaine's reaction, wondering if this was a normal occurrence. Kurt couldn't catch what all the commotion was about, but he could tell it was directed toward the king and queen.

"Come on, Kurt, let's get out of here," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's arm and tugging him along.

"Huh? But we just got here," Kurt said, caught off-guard.

"Out of the streets, Kurt. Just follow me - quickly," Blaine said.

If Kurt had been surprised by Blaine's village and home, then he definitely wasn't prepared for the elves. Their craftsmanship and architecture was beyond belief. In the center of town was a fountain that was like a hub from which the narrow cobblestone roads stretched out and away and through the trees. The houses and shops were built in and around the trees, some high up in the branches and only accessible by spiraling staircases. Tree houses, he thought. He felt like a ten-year-old child - a fashionable one with excellent taste - had dreamt up this place, and he couldn't help but feel a little giddy as they raced down the road.

Up ahead, Blaine slowed his pace, and Kurt followed suit, finally finding it possible to catch his breath. But it was soon taken away again when their apparent destination came into focus.

"Holy shit," Kurt stage whispered. It wasn't a mansion, it was a freaking castle, and he stood there awestruck as his eyes scanned the immense construct that sat just over a bridge and past a high stone wall.

"This is where I stay when I come here. It's the residence of the royal family - Obsidian Manor," Blaine said.

"Unbelievable. I guess I'm lucky that I met you and not some poor chump. You seem to have all the connections. This is great," Kurt said, grinning and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I told you my parents are on the Council. We should head in now and find Rachel."

"Who's Rachel?" Kurt asked.

"The lone Keeper and the heir to the throne," Blaine answered.

"Gotcha. Lead the way then," Kurt said, and they made their way across the bridge and through the gates of the manor.

They entered the main hall, and one of the attendants went off to find Rachel at Blaine's request. A few minutes later, a small brunnette made her way toward them, practically bouncing with each step. Kurt was amazed by how childish she looked coming down the hall, but when she came closer, he could tell she was anything but.

"It's great to see you here again, Blaine, and so soon!" she beamed and set her palm on his shoulder. "What brings you back here?"

"It's good to see you too, Rachel. I'd like you to meet Kurt," Blaine said, stepping aside to introduce him. Kurt held his hand out but then allowed it to fall limply to his side, remembering Blaine's reaction and realizing that offering your hand to shake obviously didn't mean the same thing in their world.

"Hello, Kurt." Not unlike Blaine, Rachel stood only feet from him and stared into his eyes as if she could see right through them and into his brain. It was making Kurt uncomfortable, but then she smiled, and he felt slightly less freaked out. Kurt could see that Rachel was not like Blaine: she was paler, had slimmer features, and a certain air of confidence and superiority to her that Blaine did not possess. For once in his life, Kurt felt small standing next to a woman. But he figured, she wasn't really a woman as he knew them.

"Well, come along, you two. There's no use standing around here." Rachel led them into the manor and through the main hallway until they reached a room that appeared to be a study. There was a small, round table over by a window on the far side of the room, and Kurt followed Blaine and Rachel to have a seat around it.

"You never answered my question, Blaine. What brings you back to Ivory Wood and with an elf whom I've never seen around here?" Rachel began, speaking as if Kurt wasn't sitting right there.

"I was out on one of my periodic excursions to clear my mind a bit, and I came across Kurt who was lost. From what he's told me, it seems like he was living in the human world." Blaine turned to Kurt. "Perhaps you could explain better to Rachel."

"Sure, let me see...I don't really know where to begin. One minute, I was in the back of a Tokyo nightclub, and the next thing I know, I wake up with a mouthful of dirt in the middle of nowhere, Gaia...?" Kurt looked to Blaine for help.

"Mitera."

"Gaia Mitera." Kurt took a breath. It was the first time he had voiced the name aloud, and there was something about it that made it feel like he was finally admitting this was all really happening. "And then I've got Blaine here telling me he's a faerie and that I'm an elf, and I guess I'm still trying to process this whole situation," Kurt said.

Rachel narrowed her eyes and cocked her head slightly to the side. Then she began to laugh softly at Kurt.

"He doesn't believe you at all, does he?" she asked, turning to Blaine.

"I'm right here, you know," Kurt said, mildly irritated.

"No, I don't think so. But what I want to know is how Kurt somehow crossed over into our world and why he was never in it to begin with," Blaine said.

"I'll consult with my parents, and we can try to figure it out. I'm assuming you two need a place to stay for the time you're here? There's plenty of room here at the manor, and you're welcome, as always," Rachel said.

"Thank you, Rachel. Yes, I'll accept, and I appreciate your generous hospitality. Is the High Council meeting tomorrow?" Blaine asked.

"Yes. At noon. There is an emergency public session scheduled to respond to the small uprising we had on our hands today, which I'm sure you saw. People are restless. I think they're scared, understandably so, and they don't know how or where to direct their grief."

"The problem is that it's too easy to place blame when we feel so powerless and a solution seems out of reach," Blaine said.

Kurt listened to the two of them talk, and he wondered what exactly they were going on about while they seemed to forget he was there beside them. Blaine had explained the soul mate thing to him, and he had witnessed the unsteady climate and devastation firsthand, so he could only assume it was the root of all their current concerns. Nonetheless, he had decided that he was going to attend that public council meeting, because he wasn't one to stand idly by and allow others to take charge when he wanted something. And right now he wanted knowledge, to know everything.

Soon enough, they had grown quiet, and the conversation drew to a close.

"You two should settle in before dinner. I'll show you to your chambers," Rachel said, rising from her seat.

Rachel lead them down a long hall, around a corner, and then down another hall. Finally stopping in front of a row of doors, she directed them to separate rooms, and Kurt sank down onto the bed, already exhausted from the trip over. He took Rachel's suggestion, settled into the bed, and immediately drifted off, sleeping through dinner and through the night. If someone had come to wake him, he hadn't known, and when he woke up the next day, he felt refreshed and ready for almost anything. But his stomach was growling up a storm: priorities, Kurt thought, and he exited the chamber in search of Blaine, but more importantly, breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

"I've never known anyone to sleep for as long or as soundly as you did last night." Blaine poured juice out of a stone pitcher into Kurt's cup and took a seat across from him. "You missed dinner."

"I swear I've never slept that long in my life. I guess the trip over took a toll on me," Kurt said. "And it's quiet around here, not like New York at all."

"It is peaceful here," Blaine said.

"Yeah," Kurt answered. "It's taking some getting used to, the change of pace, but it's kinda...nice."

Blaine smiled and then took a drink from his cup and set it back down on the table. "The council meeting is at noon. What are your plans until then?"

"I don't know. I don't really have any, but I think I'd like to walk around for a bit. I was going stir crazy from being inside for so long," Kurt said.

"Then you probably want to change into something more suitable. Rachel laid out an outfit for you in your chamber that should fit you much better than what I had to offer. It'll also help you blend in here."

"Blending in has never been my forte or my aim, but anything might be a step up from this - no offense. I just hope she has good taste," Kurt said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to check on that and then head out."

"Okay. I'll see you at noon?" Blaine said as Kurt rose from his seat.

"Yeah. See you later," Kurt said.

He pushed his chair in and made his way back to his bed chamber. Sure enough, just as Blaine had said, there was a fresh outfit awaiting him. When he noticed the new pair of boots as well, Kurt gently lifted them up to examine them. They were no Hugo Boss or Doc Marten's, but they looked sturdy, and they really weren't so bad. He could deal with it. The new outfit was a three-piece set of robes mostly in a teal blue, and when he pulled them on and examined himself in the mirror, he was almost convinced that they had been tailored especially for him from the fit down to the eerie detail of the color that almost perfectly matched his eyes.

It was nothing he would have ever imagined himself wearing in the past, but the craftsmanship, tailoring, and fine, golden embroidered details were impeccable. The robes were made out of very fine, expensive looking silk that also seemed to shimmer a deep emerald when it caught the sunlight as Kurt spun around in front of the mirror. Both the boots and the robes appeared to be hand-stitched and made with the utmost care. If one thing was for certain, these elves knew fashion and shared his love of clothing, and Kurt could admire them for that.

He pulled on the boots, ran his hands one last time over the stiff material, and then decided he was ready to head out. He didn't have a real destination, but something about the fountain at the center of the village had caught his attention. So when Kurt stepped outside of the manor and crossed back over the bridge, he headed straight into town on his way to the center and into the heart of things.

This time around, he noticed a few small farms on the outskirts of the town and some people out tending the fields. When he passed the houses and shops again, he spent more time studying the very Victorian-esque architecture. The constructs were cylindrical with slanted roofs, and the windows were long and narrow. The spindles on the railings of their often spiral stairways were carved to imitate the plants and trees from which the wood most likely came. He could tell overall that the elves were a lot more concerned about aesthetics than the faeries, and he decided he preferred it here.

A few people passed by him in the streets, nodded in his direction, and then continued on their way. Eventually, Kurt reached the fountain and slowed his pace, coming to a stop at the lip of its basin. He watched the water flow out from a spout protruding from what appeared to be the mouth of a fish of sorts and into a wide, round stone basin below, where it bubbled and frothed. There were fixtures like this throughout New York City, but Kurt was well aware of the dangers of even considering placing any part of his body into the water there. This water, however, was crystal clear, and he felt like, if he were to run his hand through it or even drink it, he could do so without contracting salmonella or becoming infected with some skin-eating bacteria.

His eyes skimmed the surface of the water, and Kurt saw the sky reflected in it, slowly undulating, casting a blue tint upon it. The sun beat down on the back of his neck through the space between the tree branches overhead, and then a cool breeze blew through, causing the water to ripple.

Kurt allowed his eyes to slowly fall shut as he stood there. While concentrating on his breathing and the movement of the natural world surrounding him, Kurt unintentionally entered a meditative state. He became acutely aware of the organic rhythms weaving their way around him in the space he occupied: the breeze, the soft rustling of leaves, the sway and quiet creaking of branches. When he snapped his eyes open again, he whipped his head around, feeling foolish, but no one seemed to notice him there or think anything of it.

And as he stood there, it hadn't occurred to him just how he would know when it was noon. Then a low rumbling began off in the distance that he felt first in the pit of his stomach. His initial thought was thunder, but as he listened, the rumbling rose up into a steady roll, and he realized that they were drums sounding off with the sonority of timpani.

Then the movement of people around him caught his attention: the streets that had been practically empty before were now filling up, and the crowd seemed to be headed in one general direction. Oh, Kurt thought, making the connection between the drums that moved the masses and the council meeting. It must be noon, and he had lost track of time, having had no real way of keeping it or truly knowing. He spun slowly on his heel and followed the flow of people making their way toward the manor.

-s-

Kurt stepped into the round chamber and, glancing around, thought it resembled a small stadium. Much of the public had gathered in the stands, and he could hear chattering, mostly voices in bitter tones, of elves and faeries apparently riled up about the state of the realm and angry at the king and queen for not acting as they saw fit to address the issues. Kurt hesitantly made his way toward the front and sat down a short distance from the seats designated for the royal family and chief councilmen.

He was no stranger to boardroom meetings and the politics that came with them, and he was more interested than nervous to learn more about what he had fallen into. Across the way, he spotted Blaine who had taken a seat a similar distance from the front but must not have seen Kurt. Then silence washed over the crowd as the councilmen entered and took their seats. Kurt sat up alert and leaned forward.

"Councilmen, citizens, visitors," the king began. "We're gathered here for an emergency session during which we will address the state of the realm and then open the floor to address public grievances."

The king took a seat, and another man rose to his feet to speak. Kurt thought that there was something very familiar about the man, though he had never seen him before. He could tell that he reigned from Luxterra Barrow because he wore a uniform almost identical to Blaine's, only it was a decorated version. Kurt glanced back up toward his face again, and that's when it hit him: this must be the politician father of Blaine's. Beside him was a woman who, once Kurt had put two and two together, was obviously Blaine's mother.

"We are aware of the rising concern about the unusual weather activity which has resulted in some truly devastating storms. I promise you that we are doing everything in our power to address this. It is publically known that the second Keeper has still not been located, and, until the ritual is performed, much of this is out of our control."

A roar went up in the crowd, and Kurt, startled, looked around at the masses who were apparently not pleased with this answer. He knew why they were pissed. All his years dealing with corporate bigwigs and American politics made him a cynic, because he knew firsthand that there was always some truth being concealed. It was how power was maintained.

Kurt wasn't sure what had gotten into him, but he rose to his feet, and the roar of the people around him began to simmer down into anxious whispers. They were wondering what exactly was going on and were amazed by the audacity of this stranger to speak up. A deliberate throat clearing from Kurt was enough to bring complete silence to the stands and to capture the attention of the king who rose his eyebrows at Kurt. The king's lips tightened and his mouth became a thin line; it was apparent that he was torn between saying something and remaining quiet and allowing Kurt to speak to feed his curiosity.

"I'd like to call you on your bullshit," Kurt said. A collective gasp could be heard throughout the room. "I've been in this business for way too long to know that there's something being left out of this equation. I just haven't figured it out yet. I have, however, personally witnessed just how serious some of the destruction has been."

"Sit down, young man," the king said, flustered, rising to his feet again. "You're out of line."

"I will not sit down. I haven't even told my account, and your attempt to silence me only gives me more reason to think that there is something suspicious going on here."

The people in the stands began to chatter again, and a man stood up behind Kurt followed by a few others. There was a gradual rising of individuals around the chamber, and Kurt could hear that they were shouting things like "he's right!" and "let him speak!" This realization gave him an extra boost of confidence, and he crossed his arms and smirked.

"Silence!"

Everyone froze and fell silent. The source of the order was not the king but the woman now standing tall beside him. She was more intimidating in demeanor than he was, and in that moment Kurt could tell she had to be the queen. It was obvious people either feared her or greatly respected her - more than the king, at least. She held her hand out before her and then pointed directly at Kurt.

"You," she said. "What is your name?"

"Kurt Hummel." He let his arms fall to his sides again, but he stood up straight, raised his chin, and puffed out his chest.

"Clearly, you are not from around here," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"You're correct."

"And you believe you have some authority in our matters?"

"I believe that the issue at hand has a known solution, and if you would just take the time to dig deep enough, you wouldn't have storms tearing apart the land and taking out entire villages. Because, from what I heard, you've never had a problem like this happen before. Ever."

"You heard about Beryl Grove." Her expression turned stony. Kurt, realizing he had hit a nerve and now had the upper hand, continued smugly.

"I saw it. In the flesh, or what was left of it, which wasn't much at all," Kurt said.

"If you have anything else, Kurt Hummel, then say your piece. Otherwise, sit down. Please."

"I've finished. I'll gladly sit down now," Kurt said, and he dropped back into his seat in the stands. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap.

-s-

"What were you thinking?!" Blaine asked, exasperated. "You were clearly overstepping by challenging the High Council, and the way you spoke to the king and queen was unacceptable. They're letting you stay at the manor, feeding and clothing you without asking for anything in return, and this is how you show your gratitude?"

"Whoa, whoa. Just slow it down, will you?" Kurt said, holding both hands up in front of him. "You're overreacting, and you know that someone had to say something."

"They're right though, Kurt. You're an outsider. You came here knowing nothing, and you still don't really know the half of it. So, I don't understand why you think you were the right person to speak up," Blaine said.

"You saw how people were rallying behind me, and you can't even deny it. They want someone to be their voice."

"You don't understand, Kurt. You really don't get it at all."

"Then explain it to me, why don't you! I'm sorry that you're too terrified to stand out, too scared to defy dear Mom and Dad, but I don't have the same reservations as you or anyone else."

"I can see that. But we came here for answers. Angering those who are possibly our best source of information will do nothing to help our cause. You need to learn that knowing your place is part of living in Gaia Mitera. In case you haven't noticed, there's a hierarchy, and we answer to and serve the royal family. And we all serve nature and obey the natural order. It's just how it has to be."

"Do you think I asked for any of this? We're all in the same boat now, all this chaos, and I would absolutely love it if I could just go home and forget about all of this."

"Take a good look at yourself, Kurt. I know you're still in denial, but take some time to really look at yourself. You _are_ home."

"You don't know me at all," Kurt said.

"You don't know you at all."

"I'm going to bed," Kurt said. He didn't even give Blaine a chance to respond - he didn't want him to -, and he quickly turned and rushed off toward his room, breaking into a run.

His hands were clenched in tight fists as he entered the room, slammed the door, and collapsed down onto the edge of the bed. Who did Blaine think he was? Why was he still so convinced of all his delusions about Kurt? It was frustrating, and Kurt wished he had some sort of escape in this moment, something to ease the tension in his chest. But it seemed like his whole situation was becoming something he would definitely have to deal with head on, and he'd be damned if he had to suffer consequences for his actions at the council.

-s-

Kurt tossed and turned under the covers, unable to relax and knowing that he would not be able to fall asleep unless someone slipped him an Ambien - or a few Percocets. He threw the blanket off of him and quietly pulled his robes on. Then, careful not to walk too heavily, he sneaked out into the hall and made his way through the manor. He passed several doors from behind which he could hear soft snores and the rustling of those already asleep. He walked until he finally came to a room where the door was ajar. He peeked in and then slowly pushed the door open to reveal a magnificent library, filled with high walls lined with shelves on which several books were housed.

If there was ever a place for information, Kurt thought, this was it. Tip-toeing, he made his way to a shelf and scanned the titles. Some were in a language he didn't understand, but he came across a large volume resembling a dictionary. It was labeled as a history book of sorts.

Kurt pulled the large, heavy leather bound book off the shelf and, finding and settling into the closest chair, set it in his lap and ran his fingers across the cover before opening it. He flipped through the book, turning each leaf carefully as he read. He had to strain his eyes to see, because the thin beams of moonlight through the window were his only source of light. He skimmed through a section about the creatures that inhabited Gaia Mitera until he came across a section about elves. He swallowed hard and read closely:

_"During the Dark Age, humans forced the faeries West, and our people had to recolonize and establish a new order. The elven race, being natural born leaders and blessed by Mitera with skills in speechcraft and persuasion, assumed power and began to inhabit Ivory Wood. The lesser faeries took up residence underground and in the mountains. Because of the divide, two kingdoms arose within the realm, but the elves continued to rule supreme. Our people have found balance between the two kingdoms through the establishment of the High Council."_

Pausing for a moment to properly absorb the information, Kurt couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. If he was going to be completely honest with himself, then he would have to admit that this might explain some things he wondered about growing up, like the way he affected people when he spoke and sang, the way he always felt in control but at the same time like he was spiraling wildly out of it, like there was a force within him that he couldn't harness or even begin to understand.

Kurt always knew that he was different, but he was led to believe that his oddities and deviant behaviors were a result of losing his mother at such a young age, that his acting out was normal. At least, that's what every single one of his child psychologists concluded before ending their ever-too-brief round of sessions. Sometimes he thought people were treating him a certain way out of pity, but other times he felt like he was pulling the strings or pushing the pawns across the smooth, black-and-white-checkered battlefield while his opponent could only move their own into his path.

Check and mate...

Maybe it was time to consider the possibility that Blaine was telling the truth.

This book was telling him things about these beings who, despite the occasional flashes of what he pegged as supernatural in their behavior and appearance, seemed humanoid and not very different than himself when it really came down to it.

Directing his focus back to the book, he skimmed a bit past some rather yawn-inducing sections on government and the "lesser creatures" and then began to read again.

_"The elves of Ivory Wood are especially well-known for their medicines, are master craftsmen of textiles, and possess the power of song with which they can affect the matter of the universe."_

Possess the power of song? What was that supposed to mean? Kurt bit the inside of his lip. He narrowed his eyes and then turned the page again, skimming until the word "Keepers" jumped out at him and piqued his interest. He refocused his eyes to concentrate on the text.

_"It is believed that the inhabitants of Gaia Mitera are all descendants of the music of the universe, that which created the first Keepers, instilled with the power of Mitera to - "_

"Couldn't sleep, could you?"

Kurt jumped and snapped the book shut in his lap. He looked up into his visitor's face to see that it was none other than the queen. Now, up close, in the pale light of the moon, he could see her a little clearer; she was fierce but beautiful. Her long auburn hair was set and styled in a braided updo, accentuating her strong yet still very feminine features. It was her eyes which appeared an almost silvery gray in the dim light that pierced right through Kurt and caused him to shiver.

"I - I'm so sorry," Kurt said, standing up and rushing to return the book to the shelf.

"There's no need for apologies. You're curious. It's only natural. It's not every day that someone crosses the ether between the realms, especially an elf who has come from the human world."

Kurt eyed her curiously as she spoke and, noticing that she was not angry, he relaxed and sat back down. She took the seat nearby and leaned forward in her chair.

"So, Rachel told you?" Kurt asked.

"Yes. I know all about you."

"It seems like I'm the only one who doesn't."

"Tell me, Kurt. Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

"Not everything. I still have a lot of questions. But I think I finally believe it - that I'm one of you."

"You were bold to step up earlier at the council. You have a gift, you know. I don't see many like you."

"It's mostly because I don't give a shit about how others feel. I've always spoken my mind, and no one has ever challenged me."

The queen stared at him thoughtfully, and then she crossed her hands in her lap. She leaned back and fixed her gaze on some unknown point as if trying to remember something or to piece something together.

"You are welcome in our home, but I think it's time for you to go back to bed. Sometimes too much knowledge can be dangerous for an individual, especially someone like you who has much to catch up on in a short space of time."

Kurt noticed her expression hardened, and he knew she was serious. It was a warning: he was welcome in their home, but not in the library. He listened, slowly rising up to head back to his chamber, because he knew that he was already overwhelmed by his new knowledge. And now he had to find some way to figure out what the tumultuous whirlwind of thoughts in his head all meant as they crashed together and shook him to his very core, contradicting everything he once thought was true.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in his bed chamber, Kurt paced the floor, desperately trying to calm his mind and convince himself that he wasn't completely insane. He could really use a cigarette right about now - or ten. But he quickly pushed that thought out of his head, because there was a much larger issue at hand.

No. It couldn't be. He didn't believe them, he didn't believe any of it. Why him? How could he have lived for so many years not knowing who he was? Where he was from? Blaine had been right. He always knew he was different, always felt like there was something else he had that no one else did, a power within him. So he was an elf. But how was he supposed to go on with the knowledge that everything he ever thought was true was a lie? Now he felt like he knew nothing.

He had to get away.

Kurt stopped his pacing across the dark chamber and quickly gathered up the few belongings he still possessed - he had lost his dignity a long time ago and now his identity. All he had left was the body he was chained to, the one he had defiled, the one that he didn't even feel was his own anymore. He bundled up the clothing he had been gifted by Blaine and the people of the kingdom and slipped out silently as possible into the night.

Then he ran. He ran into the woods without a destination, without a purpose.

-s-

Kurt's feet were becoming sore, and he gripped a stitch in his side, collapsing onto the mossy carpet of the dense forest. Tears began to burn in his eyes, and he broke down into sobs, nearly choking, his breath interrupted and his chest in pain.

"Why?!" Kurt yelled out into the night. He didn't know who or what he was yelling to. He was never religious, and he wasn't even sure what exactly it was that governed this strange world. Then he curled up into a ball and sat there with his head on his knees, his whole body quaking.

A sultry, mellow tune drifted through the trees, and Kurt lifted his head and turned to listen. It was a woman's voice, and it was deep, rich and powerful. He felt something pulling him from his core and was relieved to know that nearby was civilization and that he was not completely lost. He rose to his feet and slowly made his way toward the source of the song.

The music grew louder and louder around him, and he came to a clearing. Standing at the center was a raven-haired, olive-toned woman. She turned and stopped singing when she caught sight of Kurt. Then she smiled at him, and he didn't know how, but he knew he was safe. He found himself stepping forward to greet her.

The moonlight cast a halo around her head and a soft spotlight that outlined the curves of her body, the trees around her perfectly framing her form. Her hair hung down against her bare skin, covering her breasts, but the rest of her was completely exposed. She must be an angel, Kurt thought. She was beautiful, and he wouldn't doubt that angels were real too if this was now his reality.

"Hello," she spoke in a warm alto. "I was wondering when you would come."

"Who are you?" Kurt asked, still in awe of her presence.

"In these parts, I am known as Santana," she answered. "But I have also been called Kallos and Nyx."

"And why were you expecting me?"

"In their time, all men come to me."

"I don't understand," Kurt said.

"Come. I will show you then," she spoke. The woman flashed him a mischievous smile, held out her hand, and he immediately relaxed and began to walk forward to take it. A chill shot through his body at the contact, but he allowed her to lead him to wherever she was going.

They walked, stepping carefully over fallen trees and roots, around small ponds and over shallow streams. The night grew darker, but Santana seemed to emit her own light from within as she guided him along the way. Eventually they came to a cave, and she led him inside. As they ventured deeper and deeper into the cave, Kurt was sure now that he had made a terrible mistake, and he began to panic. He tried to pull away, but he couldn't.

His skin began to crawl and he knew then that this was no angel, this was a Siren, an evil creature he had briefly read about. But now he was under her spell, held by her charm.

"Sit," she said, motioning to a wooden chair by a small table laden with fruits of some kind. Kurt could only obey, as much as he tried to fight it. So he sat. Looking back up into her face, he could see her true form showing through - she was hideous with fangs like a snake and yellow, slitted eyes like a great jungle cat.

"I know what you are," he said, his voice shaking. "And I was an idiot to let you lead me right into your lair. Is it dinner time already?" he tried to joke.

"It has been many moons since I feasted," she said. "You were a very convenient catch and very _weak_."

Kurt swallowed hard and fidgeted in his seat.

"So you're like me, only you're a literal man-eater," Kurt jested, attempting to ease his own fear and lighten the tension. But the eminent danger at hand made it impossible to relax. He probably wasn't coming out of this. He felt himself begin to perspire.

'I do have a taste for your kind, but -" she sniffed the air as she circled him. "There's something different about you. You smell like humans, the flesh of whom I haven't tasted in centuries, but you aren't human - are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"There's something bitter about your scent, and your aura is strange - something I haven't encountered before. You're no ordinary elf." Then her eyes suddenly grew wide, and she stepped back away from him.

"You'll let me go," he spoke with a feigned confidence.

"I can't," she said.

Santana rushed off and returned with rope. She swiftly tethered Kurt's arms and legs to the chair and stepped back again. "But I can't eat you either."

"Then what is the point of keeping me here?"

"I can't just let you go." He could see the fear now in her eyes.

"Yes you can, and you will." Kurt looked directly into Santana's eyes, and after a moment it felt like something snapped. The charm she had placed on him had broken, and she began to untie him. "See? Now was that so difficult?"

"I know what _you_ are," she said. "Your energy - it's -"

"Tell me, then. Tell me something else I don't know about myself!" he shouted.

She closed her eyes tightly, and her body trembled as if something was trying to claw its way out of her. She looked like she was fighting down vomit, and Kurt looked on with disgust and impatience as he waited for her to cough it up already. But she remained quiet as if her lips had been sealed by some form of magic.

"If you won't speak, then lead me. Take me out of these woods."

She nodded. He stood up and took her hand again, but this time he was in control, and he could feel his influence over her, not unlike he used to feel when men would simply agree to have sex with him when he was back in the human world. They exited the cave and went out into the night.

The trees grew thinner as Santana led Kurt along, and the path reappeared. Up ahead, he could see a bright light cutting through the trees, and they walked toward it until they came to the edge of the forest and out onto a beach.

Kurt had never seen anything like it, and he let go of the Siren's hand and gazed out over the dark, glistening waters. He turned his face toward the sky and dropped down on his knees into the soft sand. Then he laid back, his eyes wide as he stared on at the stars, more luminous than he had ever seen before. They seemed closer, and he swore he almost could see them burning and flickering against the dark velvet curtain of the sky.

And as he looked upward, he felt small, vulnerable, and for once, so very mortal. He had just barely escaped death, but something happened that he couldn't explain. He could have been devoured just like that.

He breathed in deeply and then let out a heavy sigh. What was he in the grand scheme of things? Just a speck. A fragile insignificant speck of matter cursed with life.

And wasn't he just as evil as the Siren? Unfeeling and willing to destroy men and without an ounce of care in the world so long as it fed his greedy desires. The power she held over him was incredibly frightening, and, yet, he knew it was the same type of power he used against countless people.

Was he evil?

He wasn't the same person that left New York City that fateful day. No, he was different, and he felt different. Maybe he had been changed by the experiences he'd had in this strange and terrible realm, by the people he met and the choices he was forced to make. He could be good. His life was fast becoming his fable, and he would not die the villain, having done no good deed.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt woke up, wet, shivering, teeth chattering, and curled up in fetal position on the shore. A breeze swept over him, chilling him to the bone, and he slowly sat up, his arms still wrapped around himself in attempt to hold in any ounce of body heat possible.

The Siren had taken off once they had reached the shores, it was quiet save for the soft rustling of the waves, and for the first time he felt lonely, forgotten, and lost. He began to panic as he thought about how he would most likely starve to death out here. When it came to taking care of himself, he was completely clueless and utterly helpless.

He wished he had paid attention when he was in Blaine's care and watched him prepare foods, wished he had asked questions instead of assuming that someone would always be there to serve him and make sure he was okay. But wishing wasn't going to do him any good.

"I suppose this is the moment where ruby red slippers would come in handy," Kurt said to himself. He clicked his heels together and then grinned sadly at his foolishness. But he wasn't even sure where his home was anymore.

Wherever Blaine had taken him had been as close to home as he would get. Having no actual way, that he knew, of returning to New York, Kurt wondered if Gaia Mitera was his home now, or if he could ever really feel at home here.

And he couldn't help it, as he sat there, he began to sing softly, a song he had once sung in choir during his school days, when Broadway was still his ultimate goal, where he believed he belonged...

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly"_

Kurt closed his eyes and really let himself take a deep breath before continuing to sing, more steady now, slowly gaining volume...

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free"_

He opened his eyes and looked up toward the sky...

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise"_

And as he sang out the last quivering note, he gasped, taking all the air back into his lungs and body, and his eyes began to glisten with tears. All that surrounded him was the sound of the waves beating gently against the shore. Kurt's lip trembled, and when he blinked, the tears began to fall.

-s-

Kurt sat up alert, thinking that he heard someone call his name, but when he looked around, he saw nothing. Then he heard it again, and he knew he wasn't imagining it.

"Kurt?! Kurt!" Blaine came rushing up to where he was sitting in the sand. "Are you okay? I was so worried. Everyone was worried about you. You just - you just disappeared."

Kurt looked up at Blaine, and his eyes filled up with tears again.

"Blaine - you - how did you find me?"

"I - I'm not sure how. I just kind of knew...like before, I felt your presence. And when I was making my way toward the shore, I heard music, something foreign to me. But it was - it was beautiful - and...moving. It was you...?"

"Yes," he squeaked out between sobs. "I - I really thought I was going to die this time. I was terrified."

"You're okay now, Kurt. Just - please don't ever run off like that again. There are things that lurk in the woods that aren't like us. They're scavengers who feed off of the energy of lone travelers, mostly men who are caught unaware in whom they sense weakness."

"It's too late for your warnings. I already met one. A Siren."

"How did you -?"

"I don't know. I kind of just did what I always used to do - I told her to let me go, and she listened. And I had her lead me here."

"Kurt," Blaine began. "Will you come back to the manor with me? I was doing a lot of thinking, and I realized I wasn't fair to you. And I'm sorry. I've been going on about things and treating your ignorance as a game, but I owe it to you to tell you everything I know. And - first thing's first, if you ever find yourself lost again, you should know some basic things to survive. Come with me. On the way back, I'll show you a few things."

"Yeah," Kurt said, looking up into Blaine's eyes. He felt everything within him dissolve, and the tightness in his chest eased at Blaine's words.

Kurt rose up to his feet and did his best to brush the sand from his damp clothing. He knew the intrusive particles were sure to have already embedded themselves in unfortunate places throughout his body, so he was eager to get back in order to bathe. There was a reason he was never a fan of the beach and preferred to stay in the city inside his jacuzzi with copious amounts of alcohol and a man or two. And he hadn't minded when they found their way into particular places on his body. But he was finding it very difficult to think about sex at the moment when he was cold and hungry and Blaine had once again conveniently appeared before he wasted away.

It wasn't horny he was feeling toward Blaine anymore. No, it was something like gratitude. Maybe respect. In fact, he began to wonder if sex was even a thing over here like it was back in the human world, and it began to take a backseat to all of the bigger issues such as his need to survive and to sort himself out. But then he realized that he was becoming rather fond of Blaine in a way he couldn't really explain.

"If you don't mind, after we've found some food, I'd like to take a little detour. I come out here every once in a while, mostly to think, and there are a few spots I've found are particularly peaceful."

"Food," Kurt moaned, sounding like a zombie in search of brains. "Yes, please. Then you are free to do whatever you want with me."

Blaine waved Kurt onward. After stepping lightly through the soft sand, Kurt was grateful when his feet fell on more solid ground again. The sun had been gradually rising, and, although they had entered the shade of the trees, the rays that made their way through the spaces between branches delivered warmth back to his body and began to dry the light material of his robes.

"Come, Kurt. I want to show you this," Blaine said, stopping to kneel down by what looked like a small bush filled with berries. "Take note of the shape of the leaves -"

"They look like hearts," Kurt said.

Blaine plucked a few berries from the plant and let them roll off his palm into Kurt's. He popped a few into his mouth, urging Kurt to do the same. Kurt did as Blaine advised, the berries burst between his teeth and on his tongue, and the slightly bitter yet rich juices filled his mouth. He tried his best to stifle a groan of pleasure as he chewed and swallowed. Smiling, Blaine picked a few more and placed them carefully into his pouch for later.

"As you can tell, these ones are safe to eat. And they're quite good. But - " Blaine stood back up and took a few more steps away from the path, and Kurt followed his lead. "Never eat the mushrooms," Blaine said pointing down at the ground at the base of a tree.

"Are they like funny mushrooms or something?" Kurt asked with a sly grin.

"No. But they might kill you. And death isn't very funny to me," Blaine said.

"Touché. Alright, so, hearts and berries good - mushrooms, very bad, avoid at all costs," Kurt said.

"I can show you a few more plants that are okay once we make it to Halcyon Pond," Blaine explained.

"Sounds good. I don't foresee myself ever coming out here again, but I'll take mental notes," Kurt said.

He followed Blaine along, paying close attention to everything he showed and told him, and Kurt felt better for it. When he felt that his brain was now brimming with new and useful information, they stepped off the path again and made their way toward a small body of water.

"We're just outside of Ivory Wood now," Blaine said. "I found this spot once when I was younger. It's - nice. I like to come out here occasionally to think."

"You seem to do that a lot. Do you really enjoy isolation that much?" Kurt asked.

"Sometimes I just need to escape from it all. Don't you ever feel that way?"

"I - I guess. Yeah," Kurt answered. "I mean, it was exactly what I was doing before I ended up here - running. I was trying to escape, too terrified to face consequences that were long overdue. But - what is it you feel like you need to escape, Blaine? You don't exactly seem like you're plagued with misfortune."

"I just -," Blaine began. "Sometimes I feel so mixed up. Like there's a constant war inside of me, and I can't grasp what it is or why I feel certain things that I do."

"I used to think that feeling things would do nothing but harm, and I fought myself so many times until I think I forgot how to feel," Kurt said.

"I feel lost, Kurt."

"Me too."

Blaine sat down at the edge of the water.

"Everything that's happening to our world is so confusing, and I can't even fathom what might happen, how everything could just - end." Blaine was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Do you think that some people aren't meant to have a soul mate? That they're meant to live a solitary life?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "Maybe."

"Can you - can we just sit here quietly for a while? Together?" Blaine asked.

"Sure," Kurt answered. He took a seat beside Blaine.

"You know, as good as it feels to just get away from it all, it's kind of nice to have someone beside me."

"Alone together," Kurt said.

"Yeah," Blaine said quietly.

They sat there in silence, gazing over the pond as a light rain began to fall upon the surface of the water, sending ripples throughout and a light mist dancing across it. But Kurt didn't feel alone anymore. Having Blaine beside him was doing something to him that he couldn't fully understand. His heart began to race as he fixed his eyes on Blaine's hand which was palm down on the ground between them. And in that moment, he wanted to inch his fingers across the quickly dampening soil, slide his hand into Blaine's and entwine their fingers. He wanted to feel close to someone, to feel the warmth of another body, to feel connected in a way that he had never known before. And, even in this crazy, twisted, not-quite-fairytale world, Blaine made him feel so safe.

But he didn't. He didn't reach over and take Blaine's hand in his. He gently shook his head and placed his hands in his lap, admonishing himself for the thought. He had already been too brash with Blaine in the past, had already made unwelcome advances, and, this time, Kurt decided that it was better to leave it be.

He knew what it was that he was feeling now. And he didn't want to fight it anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

When they set foot back in the kingdom, Kurt felt relieved to be somewhere familiar again, in a place which was slowly beginning to become something of a home to him. And with the new knowledge Blaine had imparted onto him during their travels, living here for good didn't seem all that farfetched to Kurt anymore.

"I told you I owe it to you to tell you everything. So, I'd like to bring you to Rachel again, if that's okay with you. I think you'll find her an excellent resource," Blaine said.

"Okay," Kurt said. "And I think I could use some practice keeping my mouth shut for once. Lead the way."

-s-

As expected, Rachel was in her study, and when Blaine and Kurt entered the room, she looked up from a letter she was reading. She carefully folded it and placed it down on the table before rising to greet them with a warm smile.

"Blaine, Kurt," she said, nodding at both of them in turn. "I'm glad to see you back safely."

"I need your help, Rachel, if you have a little time," Blaine said.

"Of course I have time for you, Blaine. What is it?"

"Kurt needs to know the truth. I think he's ready to be receptive. He'll believe us now."

"Alright. Let's have a seat then, because there's a lot to explain."

Kurt remained silent and took his seat, situating himself between the two.

"I heard about your outburst at the council, Kurt," Rachel said. "Why are you so quiet now?"

"I just - it's time for me to listen. That's it."

"I understand."

"Can we begin with what we know the best? How the two of us play into all of this directly?" Blaine asked Rachel.

"Yes. I don't know what Kurt already knows, but there's no harm in starting at the beginning. As the heir of Ivory Wood, born under the moon of the centenary, I am a Keeper," Rachel explained.

"And I was born under the sun of the centenary, which would have made me one of the only possibilities for the second Keeper," Blaine said.

"But - you already told me what happened," Kurt said. "I'm sorry. Go on. I've heard you two mention energy pretty often - what's up with that?"

"Every molecule in nature possesses its own unique frequency. We can affect the world around us by a transfer of energies, more specifically, when we speak to nature through our music and song. It's the voice, Kurt, that is the essence of the soul. It is from where our power is derived," Rachel said.

"Song has the power to move matter in the universe, to build and rebuild that which is destroyed, to place in order that which has been disturbed," Blaine said.

"My role as a Keeper is to maintain the balance of energies by singing to nature, but one voice is too weak, and the second Keeper, my soul mate, is needed to strengthen the song," Rachel said.

"A duet," Kurt said. "Oddly enough, that makes sense. You create harmony to restore a natural order."

"Exactly," Rachel said. "The two Keepers must perform a ritual; their voices become one, and their souls become one. And once they've transferred their energy back into the universe, they have fulfilled their duty and are no longer needed."

"Then what happens to the Keepers once they've completed the ritual? Do they - do they die?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. During the union ritual, their souls become one, and they live out the rest of their days in peace. But they do live a shortened life, only one hundred years, and, usually, they die together. And when they do, that is when the cycle begins anew," Rachel said. "New life springs from their death as the remainder of their energy is absorbed back into the universe."

"Okay. And what happens if they never find each other?" Kurt asked.

"In the past, they always have. We really don't know what will become of us, but the evidence leads to absolute destruction." Rachel folded her hands on the table and looked down. "Gaia Mitera is not happy with us, she is ill, and it is our duty to rid what ails her. She gives us life, a long and prosperous life, and we owe her our allegiance and our gift of song," she continued.

"So nature is the creator and the destroyer?" Kurt asked her.

"Mostly, it creates, and it provides the sustenance we need to survive. But if we disturb its cycles, then we suffer the consequences," she answered. "It is something that humans have failed to grasp. It's a mistake they have been making for many centuries now, and it's why our realms must stay separated."

"Humans always write stories about our world, but their accuracy is laughable sometimes. They like to invent big bad wolves, and wicked witches, or even evil giants as the great antagonists of the world - when in reality, it's because they don't understand the natural world, the way it breathes, speaks, and connects us all," Blaine said.

"You possess that power, Kurt. As an elf, you were born with the natural ability to command the world around you with your voice," Rachel said.

"Oh, god. That's why I - all I ever had to do was ask someone to do something, and they did it. I didn't know what I was doing or why everything worked out so easily for me -" Kurt stopped, and his eyes grew wide. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as scenes began to play in his mind's eye: begging for things at the store as a child, asking a teacher to change a C to an A, talking himself out of detentions, winning the curfew argument with his dad, business transactions, sexual encounters...

He covered his face with his hands and shook his head before allowing them to fall flat on the table in front of him with a soft thud. He pressed down to keep them from trembling.

"But I abused it," he said in a small voice. "I took advantage of the power I had over people, and I became a monster - I was the monster humans write about."

Blaine looked to Rachel, his brow furrowed, and she had nothing to offer except a mirror of Blaine's concern. Then he looked back at Kurt whose expression was now blank and his eyes distant.

"Kurt," he spoke. "Beings like us aren't meant to wield so much power without constraint. Our world is run by fate, and the free will that you have known in the human world would inevitably corrupt a natural being as yourself."

Kurt was pulled back into the moment by Blaine's comment, the word "human" catching his attention as he finally began to catch up with everything that was said.

"Sometimes evil is born within us, bred from circumstance, but it is a matter of whether or not we allow it to rise up and consume us or make the choice to become bigger than it all," Blaine continued. "You're strong, Kurt. You possess the strength to overcome it. You have to make many choices and recognize you are flawed, that you have made mistakes - and eventually you have to forgive yourself."

"Hold on just one minute," Kurt said, holding his hand up to silence Blaine. Rachel turned her head sharply at Kurt's sudden shift in demeanor. "How do you two know anything about the stories we have in the human world?"

Blaine looked down at the table and then back up at Rachel. They exchanged a look that annoyed Kurt, but he calmed himself down and waited for an explanation. Blaine swallowed audibly before looking back at Kurt.

"I've been there, but very briefly," he admitted.

"So have I," Rachel said.

"You've been holding out on me all this time? You two - both of you - you know how I could have returned to where I came from?"

"Only because we both knew you didn't belong there, and sending you back would only bring about further disruption to the order. But, really, we still don't know how you play into any of this, if you do at all," Blaine said.

"Well, I'm glad you two have been talking and plotting behind my back all this time," Kurt said. "But - alright. I - I don't think I belong where I came from now, either. It's strange, but I feel more at ease here, for the most part."

"I never meant to lie to you, Kurt," Blaine said. "It was never my intention to do anything but protect you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Blaine. I appreciate that you're being honest with me now. Maybe too much knowledge too soon _is_ dangerous, and I was better off not knowing right away."

"Knowledge is never a bad thing. It's important how it is presented, though," Rachel said.

"Can I have some time to myself now?" Kurt asked. "I have a lot to think about."

"Oh, of course. Will we see you at dinner?" Rachel asked.

"Probably not," Kurt responded. "I don't think I have much of an appetite." He pushed himself up from the table, quickly turned toward the door, and took a few steps.

"Well, then, can I walk you to your room?" Blaine asked, following Kurt's lead and rising out of his seat. Kurt stopped and turned back around.

"I - okay."

"My conscience feels a lot clearer now that we had that talk," Blaine said as they stepped out into the hall, leaving Rachel behind.

"Have you really been to the human world?" Kurt asked.

"I have. I was feeling rather rebellious one day. I really shouldn't have - it was dangerous," Blaine said.

"So you do have a bit of rebel in you, huh?" Kurt said with a half grin.

"I guess I'm not the good little boy you thought I was. But it didn't last very long - my visit, I mean. I couldn't even take a step without feeling guilty and like I would be struck down for defying Mitera."

"Tell me then...what did you see?"

"People. Beings not very different from myself. But they weren't pure, and they were joyless. It hurt to see the suffering, and it hurt me physically to breathe and to feel the immensity of their pain. Mostly, everything was a blur."

"Then how did you know about humans and their stories?"

"Rachel told me. She told me about this grand city she had visited with these colossal structures filled with life and mystery. She spent an evening in a library and told me all about what she found."

Rachel, Kurt thought. Rachel knew more than she let on. He knew there was something about her that wasn't like Blaine, the curious way she looked at him as if he was haute couture and she had only seen the racks of a Walmart. Sometimes it was downright creepy. But Kurt pushed it to the back of his mind for the sake of something else he wondered about.

"You and Rachel...you're close then?" he asked.

"We grew up together. We didn't know that there was anything else to it, and I grew to love her, but she has always been like a sister to me. Nothing more."

"Here's my room," Kurt said, pausing when they reached his chamber. "Sorry to cut you off, but I'm going to head in."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. I guess this is good night, Kurt, since I won't be seeing you later."

"Good night, Blaine."

And Kurt closed the door, leaving Blaine on the other side still standing there almost expectantly before eventually turning and taking his leave.

Kurt plopped face-down onto the bed and then rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He sat up to remove his boots, stripped down, and climbed underneath the covers. Then he pulled them up over his face, blocking out everything around him.

He was safe here in his thick, fabric cocoon. He wasn't sure what he was hiding from.

Outside, the temperature plunged, and the clouds began to grow dark and looming. Cold, white flakes began to fall lightly at first, picking up speed and growing thicker with each passing minute.

-s-

Kurt was awoken with a start and sat bolt upright as he looked around disoriented and unaware of what had interrupted his rest. Then he heard voices echoing down the corridors of the manor, but it sounded like a chorus of maybe twenty or thirty even. It didn't take long for him to register the tone of their voices which was anything but gleeful.

The sun had not risen yet from what Kurt, eyes still unfocused, could see through the narrow window of his chamber, but he slid out of bed and slipped into a fresh outfit. Ever since his first few days here, Rachel had kept his wardrobe stocked with robes of all sorts, the newer ones even nicer than the first. All these gifts, and Kurt wasn't sure what he had done to deserve them. It was as if she never wanted him to leave.

But, as it were, there seemed to be an angry mob now inside the manor, and Kurt prepared himself to face whatever storm lay ahead in his path.

He hadn't known that it was a literal storm.

When he stepped out into the hall and turned to the right toward the raucous crowd, he nearly ran right into Blaine who stopped suddenly and looked up at Kurt, obviously flustered. Kurt jumped about a foot in the air.

"Jesus Christ, Blaine. You nearly gave me a heart attack," Kurt said, gripping the left side of his chest.

"Kurt, you're awake," Blaine said.

"Yeah? What were you doing? Creeping around out here waiting for me? I'm beginning to think that you have a crush on me," Kurt joked, narrowing his eyes.

"A what?" Blaine said. "No, no. I was coming to get you, I wasn't out here wai..." Blaine looked back over his shoulder and groaned. "You need to come with me."

"Why? What's going on?"

"You said it yourself that the people want a voice. Well, they're asking for you, Kurt," Blaine said.

"Huh? Me? I don't even -"

"You must have made a pretty big impression at the Council because now nearly the entire community is at our doors, and they're refusing to listen to the king and queen."

"But - why?"

"There's a storm blowing in, and it's threatening the very livelihood of Ivory Wood. The ground is already coated in snow, and there's no doubt that crops will be destroyed and people will go hungry."

Kurt gulped.

"I'm not sure what they expect me to do, but I'll come," Kurt said.

What he did to gain their trust, he hadn't known. But he gathered up the courage to keep moving forward as he and Blaine hurried along through the hall. Maybe this would be his moment to prove that he wasn't a monster. Or he was going to fail miserably and be exposed for the fraud that he was.

The crowd came into view and, as soon as they spotted Kurt with Blaine, a hush fell over the elves. What now? Kurt wondered. What did they actually expect from him?

"At the request of those gathered here, I've brought Kurt," Blaine announced.

"Here I am," Kurt said with an uneasy smile, stepping forward.

"The snow is falling heavily, and the winds have begun to pick up. We're not equipped to handle a storm of this scale, and the king and queen want nothing but to silence us," a man spoke up.

"The streams have already frozen over, and if this keeps up, then we will have no water or food sources," a woman added.

Think Kurt, think, he told himself. None of this sounded good, and he was just as screwed as all of them if they didn't figure something out. Winters in the Midwest had been harsh some years, but his knowledge of snowstorms really came into existence from the nor'easters that hit New York while he lived there. Typically, he had had nothing to worry about while he stayed dry and warm up in his penthouse until the snow finally ceased and the people down below cleared it away so he could go about his business again as usual.

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself and shivered at the thought of the snow and from the literal chill he was now feeling that was penetrating the walls of the manor.

"I can't tell you what you want to hear. I can't say that I can stop the snow from falling, because I can't. All we can do is be prepared and attempt to tough it out," Kurt said.

"But, Kurt, we don't seem to have much hope. Pretty soon, there will be deaths - from the cold, from famine, and from thirst," another woman spoke.

"I really shouldn't make promises, but I'm going to promise you that I will find a solution," Kurt said.

"Kurt," Blaine hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"If remaining in Ivory Wood is going to result in loss, then we might have to leave," Kurt announced. "It may be the only solution."

Chatter began again in a wave that rolled through the group before them.

"Please settle down," Blaine raised his voice above the crowd. "The storm will hit no matter what, and Kurt's right - we need to brace ourselves until we can convince the Council to come to a decision."

-s-

He was pissing his pants. What had he just done? What could Kurt actually do to help these people? Where was that confidence he had possessed not so long ago? He felt pathetic now. Sure, he knew the basics of how to prepare for a storm, but now he had a much larger issue on his hands. There was an entire slew of people counting on him to save them, and he never felt so much pressure in his life.

He wasn't the king. Hell, he wasn't even technically one of them no matter what genetics he may share with the locals. But because he had the nerve to open his big mouth, he was now in a position he couldn't possibly back down from. Breathe, Hummel, he told himself. Surely, a conversation with the queen was all that was needed. Hopefully.

But until he could get a hold of her, he felt like he owed the elves something. At least, a temporary fix. So he went off in search of Blaine who had agreed to meet him by the gates to walk down into the village in order to personally meet with individuals and help the elves secure their dwellings.

It was easy at first. Kurt spoke, and they listened.

"Kurt," Blaine began as they trekked back through the snow toward the manor.

"Yeah?"

"You're full of surprises, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The way you handled yourself and the care you showed for the public...it was admirable."

"It's the least I can do, really," Kurt said. "I'm only pretending to know what I'm doing."

"You're doing a great job then," Blaine said with a grin.

"I guess my experience with acting is finally paying off," Kurt jested.

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. You seem to be in your element. I believe that this all comes natural to you."

"Well, you claim that my voice is powerful. I'm just hoping that with all the stuff I've been spewing that I can not only convince the High Council to see things my way but to convince myself."

"Convince yourself of what?" Blaine asked.

"That we're all going to be okay."

"Kurt," Blaine took a deep breath that rattled slightly in his chest. "For what it's worth, I believe in you."

"Thank you, Blaine."

"Don't worry. We'll pull through."


	11. Chapter 11

The fire crackled and flickered before his eyes, its heat slowly seeping into his hands and feet as he huddled up on the hearth. Kurt stared into the flames, mesmerized by the flashes of green and blue among the yellows, reds, and oranges. And, although the fire was gradually warming his skin, he had never felt so cold inside and so incredibly lonely.

The storm was raging on outside as snow and ice battered the outside of the manor. The wind whipped against the windows and made its way inside, chilling its occupants. Kurt shivered as a cool draft crept up on him, and he wished that he just had another body to keep him warm, to wrap around him and tell him he was going to be okay. He had known cold, harsh New York winters, but that was when he had the guarantee of a heated apartment and the comfort of a man who stood by him even when it didn't make sense - Emmett.

Then there was his father, the man who raised him in the human world, who had been one of the only people Kurt ever felt reverence toward. He was an honest man, kind, and sacrificing. Burt Hummel was everything that was good in the world, but the world had not been kind to him. He was given a loving wife and mother to Kurt who did nothing but cause trouble for him. And then that woman was ripped away from him too soon. He wished he could go back, if only to apologize and to show him his gratitude and tell him how much he missed him.

But when he really thought about it, he knew that there was something that had drawn him to Emmett, although he hadn't acknowledged it before. It was the same qualities of selflessness and integrity that his father possessed. It was everything Kurt was not. And sitting there alone with a sinking pit in his stomach, Kurt knew that Emmett cared about him, maybe even had loved him, and he never deserved it at all.

"Are you alright there, Kurt?"

Kurt tilted his head upward to meet a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm fine." He directed his gaze toward the flames again.

"I brought some extra blankets." Blaine leaned over a bit and draped a blanket across Kurt's shoulders.

"Thank you," Kurt turned his head up to really look into Blaine's eyes this time, hoping to make him see just how grateful he really was for the gesture.

"You might want to put this on, too," Blaine said, holding out what looked like another blanket. But when Kurt stood up, set the blanket aside, and took the heavy sheet of cloth from Blaine, he held it out before him and realized it was a wool, hooded cloak.

"It's very McQueen fall 2009," Kurt joked. Blaine just smiled in response.

"We aren't accustomed to weather like this, and this was all I could find. You might want to hold onto it," Blaine said. Kurt tossed it over his shoulders and pulled the front closed across his chest.

"It's perfect, Blaine." Kurt sank back down onto the hearth, huddling up under his newly acquired cloak. He set the blanket over his legs, and his heart felt warmer.

Blaine gazed into the fire for a moment before taking a seat next to Kurt by the only source of heat and light in the small, dark bed chamber.

Kurt could feel Blaine beside him, but he felt like if he turned his head to look at him, he might cry. So he didn't.

Blaine shifted and moved in closer, resting his bundled body against Kurt's side. He couldn't feel the heat of Blaine's skin through the layers of thick fabric, but just his presence and proximity was comforting and filled a little of the emptiness inside Kurt.

Then Blaine began to sing softly, a song with no lyrics, or at least, none that Kurt understood. Somewhere in the deep recesses of Kurt's mind, he knew that he had heard the melody before, but he couldn't place where or how. Kurt closed his eyes as he let Blaine's voice enter him and flow through him. His eyes fluttering open again, he kept his gaze fixed on the flames; he suddenly noticed the way the fire seemed to wave, ripple, and crackle in time with the soft melody Blaine was singing. The shape of the flames shifted as Blaine crescendoed to a mezzo forte and then brought it back down again to a piano. Kurt stared wide-eyed at the fire as it continued to dance until Blaine cut off his final steady note. Then it was burning again as before, calmly, but it felt like it was now radiating more heat that soon encompassed Kurt's entire body.

"What was that that you were singing?" Kurt asked, finally turning to look at Blaine, but Blaine continued to stare ahead into the fire.

"It's a lullaby that my mother used to sing to me. I think it's sung to most newborns, but it's always stayed with me for some reason."

"What is it about?"

"It's the story of the two soul mates," Blaine said. "I find it comforting. It gives me hope."

"It was - lovely," Kurt said quietly.

"Our world would be nothing without music. We would be nothing without music."

"I - I've always felt like that. When I was younger, I felt like I couldn't breathe without it, and if I wasn't performing, then I wasn't living," Kurt said.

"But you _do_ sing - I heard you," Blaine said.

"Not like before. I guess I...I just let myself forget how much it meant to me, how it moved me. I lost sight of who I really was and who I was meant to be."

"Your soul is still pure, Kurt. I know it. You can open yourself back up to the music and learn how to harness your power."

"You know, I never got to tell you how much everything you've done means to me. You saved my life, Blaine. I'd be so mixed up and lost without you right now. And you've been there for me through all of whatever is going on with me and with this world."

"Well, you're my friend, right, Kurt?"

At that, Blaine finally turned his head. There were those irresistible doe eyes that made Kurt's stomach flutter. And then turn.

"Yeah." And for some reason, Kurt's heart ached at Blaine's words.

"I've never met anyone like you before, Kurt. You're strong, confident, and filled with so much compassion toward the people of the realm. You're a natural leader. I just hope you can see how great you are."

"It's a good thing you didn't know me before I came here."

"But you are here now, and whatever might have happened in the past does not define who you are now."

"I can't help it. I can't just forget about everything and everyone. I just feel this knot of guilt in my stomach almost every day when I'm alone and think too much about all the people I wronged," Kurt said.

"You don't have to forget. If we let ourselves forget the past, then we would know nothing and feel nothing. We're still young, Kurt, and you have an entire lifetime still to live. Try to look toward the future. There are challenges to face, but I think that there's hope for us."

Kurt wasn't sure if by 'us' Blaine meant the inhabitants of Gaia Mitera or if he was suggesting something else. But it was foolish, wishful thinking, and Kurt knew it wasn't what he meant at all. Blaine had said it himself: they were friends.

But as they sat there huddled up beside each other, Kurt was overcome with a desire to hear Blaine speak the same words that Emmett had spoken so many months ago, to ask him if he had ever been in love. Because, right now, the all-consuming force that was taking over him and flowing through his body was trying to fight its way out of him, to burst forth and betray him. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs: "Yes!" If he was going to put a name to it, all he could call it was love.

It felt a lot like free falling. And then it felt like having your head held under water until you were gulping painfully as it filled your lungs. Love was terrifying. And of all the things he had encountered in Gaia Mitera, the way Kurt was now feeling for the man beside him was the thing he swore would end him. And, yet, all he wanted was for it to take him over and drown him in its clutches.


End file.
